


September

by Hustling_Rube93



Series: Stay [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aging, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, Mental Health Issues, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustling_Rube93/pseuds/Hustling_Rube93
Summary: Bellatrix’s uncharacteristic behaviour gives Hermione cause for concern.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Series: Stay [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574908
Comments: 82
Kudos: 406





	1. Intuition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yanana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanana/gifts).



> I didn’t plan for this to be as long as it is, it just sort of grew arms and legs and I couldn’t stop! So I thought it would be best to split it up into chapters instead. It’s very nearly completely finished so there won’t be a huge gap between updates. 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

And the beauty of a woman, with passing years only grows — Audrey Hepburn

* * *

Monday night, May 4th 2009  
(120 days until September 1st) 

Bellatrix had been staring at the wall for a good few minutes before she realised that Hermione was in the room.

In fact, Bellatrix didn’t even register Hermione at all until her lover slipped under the duvet and pressed her bare feet to her leg. Bellatrix startled out of her reverie and hissed in annoyance, throwing Hermione a glare that was met with a cheeky smile.

“Your feet are bloody freezing!” Bellatrix groused. There was absolutely no reason for her feet to be that cold. “And what took you so long?”

“Are you going senile?” Hermione joked. “I told you I was finishing up a few things for work.” Then she nodded at the hardback propped on Bellatrix’s knees and pointedly ignored the filthy look Bellatrix threw at her. “What’s that you’re reading?”

Bellatrix looked down at the book in her lap and snapped it closed. “Oh, I don’t know. Some thriller thing Andy said I’d like.” She set it aside on the bedside table and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms. “I can’t concentrate and my heads bursting.”

“Maybe you need glasses?” Hermione suggested playfully.

“Shut up,” Bellatrix retorted irritably. She tried hard to school her features into an air of nonchalance, but the truth was, she probably did need glasses. She’d thought so for a while now, but she certainly wasn’t ready to admit that just yet. The very thought made her sick in her mouth a little bit. 

“I think woman who wear glasses are more attractive,” Hermione told her. Bellatrix’s lip curled. “I do,” she insisted. “I’ve seen you wear Andy’s a few times, you looked sexy as hell.”

“You mean I looked ancient,” Bellatrix scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for her, grabbing a fistful of her silky nightdress. She tugged Bellatrix close enough to kiss her and smiled against her lips. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are a bit older than me, love,” she murmured. 

“Don’t remind me,” Bellatrix huffed, and gently pushed her away with a tight lipped smile. 

Hermione swished her wand to extinguish the lamps and they nestled down and got comfortable, lying on their sides so they were facing each other. After a few moments of companionable silence, Hermione’s shoulders started to shake with gentle laughter. 

“Excuse me, what’re you bloody laughing at?” 

“Oh, just you,” Hermione told her as she crept teasing fingers under Bellatrix’s nightdress to caress the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. 

Whatever reproach Bellatrix had in response to Hermione’s cheek died on her lips, and she inhaled a sharp shuddering breath at the feeling of wandering fingers. Her response seemed to encourage Hermione, but it wasn’t anticipation that made Bellatrix’s breath catch.

It was dread. 

Please, not again, Bellatrix thought. 

“You seem far away tonight, Bella,” Hermione murmured, kissing her softly. “Something on your mind?”

It was one of the things Bellatrix loved most about Hermione, the way she always knew when something was troubling her and exactly what to do to make her feel better. 

Only sex wasn’t going to make her feel better tonight, in fact it was the furthest thing from her mind, and had been for quite some time if she were to be completely honest. Bellatrix couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had sex, but it had been a few weeks, and Hermione was obviously nearing the point of starvation because she’d been trying to initiate a tumble between the sheets most evenings for the past few nights. 

Bellatrix snatched Hermione’s hand just before her playful fingers reached their intended destination. 

“Not tonight, darling,” she whispered apologetically. “I’m really rather tired.”

That wasn’t strictly true, but it was easier than telling Hermione the truth. 

“Oh, it’s alright, love.” Hermione sighed in obvious disappointment and pulled her hand away. She looked crestfallen, and Bellatrix’s heart sank a little when Hermione rolled over and turned her back to her. 

“I’m sorry,” Bellatrix murmured in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. She tugged at the back of Hermione’s pyjama top and reeled her in to nuzzle the back of her neck. 

“It’s fine,” Hermione said, and Bellatrix knew her lover well enough by now to know that it most definitely wasn’t fine. “I’m quite tired too.”

Bellatrix could hear the subtle undertones of hurt and exasperation in the lie, but it wasn’t enough for her to come clean about what had been bothering her for weeks. Even she didn’t really know. But she shuffled closer to Hermione, finding a little comfort in the warmth she radiated. 

A few moments passed in drowsy silence, then Hermione’s hand came to rest on the forearm Bellatrix had wrapped around her belly and she knew that Hermione wasn’t too upset with her. 

“I love you,” Hermione whispered.

“Love you too, dove.”

* * *

Tuesday morning, May 5th 2009  
(119 days until September 1st) 

Hermione woke early the next morning feeling ill at ease and more than a little distressed. It was a feeling that had been hovering over her for the last several weeks, ever since she’d realised that something was terribly wrong with Bellatrix. 

By the time she’d washed and dressed, drunk a mug of strong coffee, and forced herself to eat half a slice of toast, worrying thoughts had looped around in her mind until there wasn’t room for much else. 

Then the migraine struck and she internally berated herself for getting so worked up. There was probably a very logical explanation for Bellatrix’s behaviour of late. Something silly, perhaps. Something that was more than likely so far removed form the doomsday scenarios her overactive imagination had convinced her of. Her mind was reeling when the kitchen door swung open and Bellatrix shuffled in wearing slippers and a purple silk dressing gown. 

She was adorably mussed; her hair was even wilder than usual and she had a red sleep crease running down one cheek. Hermione’s belly fluttered at the sight, and she was momentarily overcome with fierce feelings of affection. Bellatrix yawned as she approached the kitchen table, casting a bleary sideways glance at Hermione. 

“Good morning, love.” Hermione pressed Bellatrix’s favourite ‘World’s Best Aunt’ mug into her hand and turned back to the kettle to prepare anther mug for herself.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” the older witch grumbled in lieu of a greeting and took a sip of coffee. “It’s nearly nine.” 

“I thought you would’ve liked a bit of a lie in,” Hermione told her, stirring her own coffee, then she casually added, “You’ve been quite tired recently. Is everything alright?”

“What’s wrong with your face?” Bellatrix scowled. 

It was a very obvious deflection but it made Hermione realise that she’d been grimacing in pain and she pinched the bridge of her nose, partly in irritation, partly because her head was thumping. 

“I have a bit of a migraine,” she told Bellatrix, and the dark witch’s eyes narrowed. 

“Again? Did you take some headache tonic?”

“We’re out,” Hermione sighed.

Bellatrix tutted reproachfully and gave Hermione a stern look over the rim of her mug. “I just bought a new bottle last week, have you used it all already?”

“I’ve been having quite a lot of headaches recently,” Hermione said weakly. “I have another bottle somewhere at the office, I’m sure.”

That was a lie. She’d used up the last of her work stash weeks ago and hadn’t got around to replacing it yet, but Bellatrix looked appeased and she nodded. 

“Ask Andy to take a look at you,” Bellatrix suggested. “You’ll wait an age for an appointment at that bloody hospital.”

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, it’s just a headache.”

“Yes, and you’ve had it for weeks,” Bellatrix argued, then added with a sneer, “Maybe it’s you that needs glasses, hm?”

“Hm, maybe. What’re your plans for today?”

Now who’s deflecting, she thought wryly. 

“Diagon,” Bellatrix said vaguely. “I’ll get more tonic while I’m there.” Then she sipped her coffee and flipped open the Daily Prophet that their owl had delivered earlier that morning. Hermione didn’t miss the way that Bellatrix squinted down at the print. 

But why on earth was she going to Diagon? It wasn’t somewhere Bellatrix went unless she really needed to. She was antisocial at the best of times and had a low tolerance for most things - mainly crowds and screaming children and annoying people. Hermione had suspected for years that she may have been a little agoraphobic and perhaps too proud to admit it, but she wouldn’t have thought any less of Bellatrix because of it.

“Teddy wants to buy school supplies,” Bellatrix went on.

Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The start of term was still four months away and Teddy had plenty of time to get everything he needed. “Oh, he’s keen,” was all she could think to say. 

Bellatrix hummed in response and turned to the sports pages in the Prophet. “Yes, well, he wants to buy his wand, but I don’t think he realises he won’t be allowed to use it until he starts school.” She shook her head and tutted softly at what was most likely the Quidditch results from the weekend. “But Teddy asked me to go with them. So Andy will probably con me into buying lunch, and Teddy will definitely con me into buying him something from the joke shop.”

Hermione was taken aback that Bellatrix was so talkative this morning and wondered if it was her way of diverting her attention away from the fact that she had snubbed her advances last night - yet again. She knew better than to try and have a full blown conversation with Bellatrix before she’d had her morning coffee, so it was a bit of a surprise for her to be so chatty.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain, but still, it was rather odd.

“Well, I best be off,” Hermione said with false cheer, and dropped a kiss on Bellatrix’s forehead. “Have a good day.”

Bellatrix merely grunted in reply and offered a small wave without looking up from the newspaper spread out in front of her. 

Hermione cast a no-spill charm on her coffee mug and stepped into the large kitchen fireplace. The last thing she saw before green flames engulfed her and whisked her off to her office at the Ministry, was the hint of silver at her lovers temples that she was sure hadn’t been there the precious day. 

The uneasy feeling that had followed her all morning like a dark cloud moved and settled in her chest.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

* * *

There was no denying that one of the best parts of waking up in the morning was drinking that first mug of coffee. 

But Hermione knew of an even better way to start the day. 

After passing her NEWT’s with flying colours, getting job offers slung at her left, right, and centre, and then finally accepting a position in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione quickly realised that an early morning shag had all the same benefits as that first mug of coffee. Getting busy in the mornings eased her into her often hectic workday and relieved all her stress, and having an orgasm - or two, or three - definitely improved her mood. 

For years, early morning wake-up calls had been their thing. Hermione often went to work glowing and happy, and more often than not she would’ve found herself clenching her thighs behind her desk or in the middle of meetings in pleasurable reminiscence. Even when she’d been transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement six years ago where her workload had almost doubled and she’d started coming home most nights exhausted beyond comprehension, their sex life didn’t suffer. 

But things were definitely suffering now. 

Now, Bellatrix flinched away from the barest of touches and made excuses, she’d even feigned sleep a few times. In fact, thinking back, the last time they’d had sex was nearly five weeks ago, Hermione knew that because it was the night before Teddy’s birthday barbecue back at the start of April. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had a few dry spells over the years, sometimes life just got in the way. But she couldn’t ever recall a time over the last decade when they’d waited more than a couple of weeks between their last roll in the sheets. 

Of course, sex wasn’t everything, but it wasn’t just the lack of intimacy recently that had Hermione on edge. She had a niggling feeling that the sex issue was just the tip of a rather large iceberg, and something even more ominous was lurking beneath the surface. 

She had noticed that Bellatrix had become distant. Hermione could almost physically feel her slowly withdrawing into herself. She didn’t seem to enjoy things like she used to. The book Andromeda had given her being a prime example, usually Bellatrix loved getting her teeth into a good book, but lately Hermione had caught her staring into space, lost in her own thoughts. 

The lines on Bellatrix’s forehead and around her mouth had become more prominent too and Hermione had put it down to all the frowning she’d been doing. And she’d started biting her thumb nail again, a nervous habit Hermione hadn’t seen in years, not since Teddy had started walking and they’d realised that he was going to be just as clumsy as his mother before him.

More worrying still, Hermione had awoke several times in the middle of the night to find herself alone, and when Bellatrix had tiptoed back into bed, sometimes hours later, the smell of cigarettes clung to her hair and her clothes despite the dark witch’s attempts to mask it. Bellatrix hadn’t smoked in years. Before, it had been a long standing habit of hers to have a cigarette or two whenever she fancied a glass of whisky, but she’d stopped completely when Hermione had told her at a party once that kissing her was like licking an ashtray. 

Hermione had always been a problem solver and not knowing what was wrong or how she could help was driving her up the wall. She just wished that Bellatrix would confide in her. She hated the feeling of suspicion. It sat heavy on her shoulders, pushing down, compressing her lungs. 

They’d been a couple for a decade now and she’d never felt insecure before - from the start Bellatrix had showered her with affection and lavished her with attention. But instinct had her feeling uneasy. 

They kept little from each other. Of course, they both had their fair share of secrets and there were plenty of things Hermione didn’t want Bellatrix to know about her. Like how she’d blindly pushed for Elf rights during her school years (something that Bellatrix would no doubt find amusing and relentlessly tease her for), or that she’d dared to cop a feel of her Polyjuiced Bellatrix breasts in the bathroom at Shell Cottage before that awful debacle at Gringotts. Likewise, Bellatrix probably had a list of indiscretions a mile long that Hermione would likely never know about - and probably wouldn’t even want to know about.

But Hermione knew that Bellatrix would emphatically deny that anything was even amiss if she tried to confront her. Hermione also knew that one of her dark watch’s biggest vices was that she was incapable of admitting when she was feeling vulnerable and needed help. Challenging her on the issue would only make her feel as though she was being backed into a corner and Hermione knew that if that happened, Bellatrix would fight her way out. 

She just hoped that Bellatrix hadn’t gotten herself into some sort of trouble. 

What if she’d killed someone? Hid the body? She was certainly capable of it. There had been a few times over the years that she’d drawn her wand on a heckler or two. Another reason why Bellatrix didn’t like Diagon Alley very much, there were still people who couldn’t seem to differentiate between Bellatrix Lestrange the Death Eater and Bellatrix Black the acquitted war heroine. 

Hermione shook her head.

Good Godric, you’re being ridiculous now, she chided herself. 

But now she felt sick and vanished her untouched coffee mug with a sigh. 

Stomach churning, temples throbbing, her gaze drifted to the framed photographs that sat on the corner of her desk. There were three, all in identical silver frames. She picked up the nearest one.

It was one of her favourite photographs from summer about eight years ago. She was sitting on the grass in Andromeda’s back garden, Teddy was just a toddler, perched on her knee wearing a blue sun hat and clutching the stuffed Welsh Green that Bellatrix had bought him for his first birthday. He’d had dozens of stuffed toys over the years, but the little green dragon was his favourite, and even now they still couldn’t persuade him to throw it out. Bellatrix was sitting next to her, leaning back on her hands, shapely legs crossed at the ankles, and her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder. 

It was a Muggle photograph that Andromeda had taken on one of her old cameras and it was the year that Bellatrix had turned fifty and pretended to be upset when Hermione had planned a surprise party for her. 

She smiled fondly and replaced the frame, gazing at the other two photographs on her desk. A black and white picture of Teddy, nearly a year old, giggling and smiling at the camera, and a candid of her and Bellatrix slow dancing at Draco and Astoria’s wedding. 

Even in her fifties, Bellatrix had still outshone everyone that day, even Astoria, though Hermione would never tell anyone that. Her hair had been pinned elegantly, tumbling over her shoulders, and she’d worn a dress so deep a red it looked almost black, with a plunging neckline that had made it difficult for Hermione to keep her eyes on her lovers face. 

Despite the angst that rattled around in her chest, the photographs reminded her of just how far they’d come. 

Bellatrix was by no means the easiest person to live with. She was difficult and spoilt and complicated, and would start an argument in an empty room if given half a chance. But she was also clever and generous and funny. God, she was funny. And she was incredibly loyal to those closest to her, and loved them with a fierceness that sometimes astounded Hermione. She loved co-existing with Bellatrix. Being with Bellatrix. Even if Bellatrix was basically a toddler when she didn’t want to do things. 

No, things weren’t always perfect. 

Right now things were far from perfect.

But her photographs were a representation of the love she shared with Bellatrix and a reminder that happy times come and go all the time. They’d get through this. She didn’t exactly know what this was. But Hermione was nothing if not persistent and she would get to the bottom of what was troubling her Bella.


	2. Far Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Age is an issue of mind over matter, if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter — Mark Twain

* * *

Saturday morning, May 16th 2009  
(108 days until September 1st)

Age is just a number. 

Age is just a number.

Age is just a number. 

Bellatrix repeated those words in her head as she surveyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was hoping if she said them enough times she would eventually believe them. 

Buy it wasn’t working today.

In fact, it hadn’t worked for a while. 

Bellatrix had always taken pride in her body and appearance, especially in her teens and early twenties. In her old Death Eater days, duelling regularly had kept her trim, but now she wasn’t even sure if she’d have the stamina for the physical exertion that wand to wand combat entailed. Oh, make no mistake, she was still deadly with her walnut and dragon heartstring, just a little slower, a little more weary. 

It was ridiculous really, and it was starting to show. 

She was still relatively fit for a woman her age, but the way her body had softened in places and the appearance of more fine wrinkles around her eyes upset her anyway. And since she’d first became aware of the streaks of silver mingled in with her ebony locks, she’d began noticing more and more as the days wore on. 

Her eyesight had gone to shit and she was becoming increasingly aware and concerned about the stiffness in her left knee. She’d put that one down to an old duelling injury that played up from time to time, but still! 

She felt fucked beyond repair. 

And not in a good way!

Shaking her head, she prodded her stomach and looked down at the bathroom scales, scowling down at the bloody ridiculous thing that Hermione had insisted they buy. She wished she hadn’t given into her so easily, because for weeks now she’d felt like the stupid contraption had been taunting her every time she brushed her teeth or used the lavvy. 

The scales had been another attempt by Hermione to introduce her to silly Muggle technology. They were digital apparently, modern she’d said. Bellatrix didn’t know what digital even meant, Hermione had tried to explain it to her, but she didn’t really give a toss either way. 

What she knew for certain was that they’d been a waste of damn money, because they’d sat under the sink collecting dust for nearly a year until Bellatrix had finally decided to try them to see what all the fuss was about, and they’d been wrong. Completely wrong, and they were still wrong all these weeks later. 

Today was the day though. 

She could feel it. 

This was how most Saturday mornings went for Bellatrix these days. Standing in her pyjamas on the cool bathroom tile, glaring at the scales in a silent stand-off while Hermione danced around downstairs making breakfast. 

Their nephew, Teddy, was downstairs as well. He’d slept over last night while Andromeda worked. Bellatrix didn’t know why her sister still felt the need to work ungodly hours, especially when her vault was filled to bursting with enough gold to keep them living comfortably for decades. She supposed she shouldn’t complain though, because even though Andromeda had cut back her hours at work years ago, the odd night shift meant that Bellatrix got to spend as much time as possible with Teddy before he started school in September. 

Merlin, that didn’t bear thinking about, yet it was all she seemed to be thinking about lately. 

The thought of him leaving for months at a time when she’d seen him nearly every day for the last eleven years filled her with a suffocating degree of separation anxiety. But he was so ready to go, even if she wasn’t. It was all he’d spoken about since he’d received his Hogwart’s acceptance letter on his birthday. 

Bellatrix’s musings were interrupted when her ears were assaulted by the faint sound of Hermione and Teddy butchering the high notes in Bohemian Rhapsody from all the way down in the kitchen. She loved them both unconditionally, but she could really do without the headache today. 

She had to focus. 

Steeling herself with her hands on either side of the sink, she waited patiently until their off-key yodelling finally tapered off into uproarious laughter, then she took a deep breath and stood on the scales. 

Whatever confidence she’d managed to muster vanished in about two seconds when the little black numbers flared to life on the screen.

Her nostrils flared and she shifted her weight to see if the numbers would change. They didn’t, and Bellatrix sucked her teeth in annoyance. 

“This is absolute horseshit,” she seethed, shaking her head in annoyance. 

It was her fat arse. It had to be the arse. She reached around and squeezed her buttocks. 

Recently, she’d noticed how constricting her knickers had been. She’d managed to convince herself that they’d shrunk in the wash, but deep down she knew she was grasping at straws and wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the pretence that it was the scales that were the problem. 

She knew people started to thicken out when they got older but, Salazar’s saggy balls, she wasn’t even sixty yet and her superior Pureblood genes were supposed to keep ageing at bay for another decade at least. 

She was overweight. 

Not by much. 

But still.

The sound of footsteps skipping up the stairs met her ears and Bellatrix knew she had about ten seconds of privacy left before a certain honey-eyed beauty made an appearance, and she quickly stepped off the scales. 

“Breakfast’s ready,” Hermione said, and wrapped her arms around Bellatrix from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “We’ve got a big, greasy, delicious fry-up waiting for you.”

Bellatrix’s heart plummeted at the thought and she quickly caught Hermione’s hands in her own before the younger witch could wrap them around her middle. Instead, she lifted Hermione’s fingers to her lips and pressed kisses across her knuckles. 

“Mm, you smell amazing,” Hermione hummed, and buried her nose in the freshly washed curls at the nape of Bellatrix’s neck. 

“It’s just my usual shampoo,” Bellatrix muttered, but she leaned her head back slightly and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. 

Hermione hummed again and pressed a kiss behind her ear then caught her lobe between her teeth and tugged playfully. Bellatrix couldn’t stop the shiver that tingled down her spine and Hermione’s hands ghosted over her chest to palm her breasts through her nightdress. 

“Hermione,” Bellatrix hissed in warning. “The boy’s downstairs.”

Hermione sounded almost regretful when she murmured, “I know.” Then she stepped away with a lingering touch. The path her fingers had taken left little shimmering sensations in their wake. “Come downstairs, I’m starving.”

“You go ahead, darling. I’m not all that hungry this morning.” Bellatrix turned to her with a strained smile. Then her stomach growled noisily and she glared down at her gut. 

Traitor. 

When she looked up again Hermione was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded and an amused smirk on her face. Over the years Bellatrix had come to know that look well and knew that Hermione didn’t believe a word of it. 

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? The bacon’s extra crispy, just how you like it.”

“Maybe just some toast,” Bellatrix said weakly, hoping to appease her, then before she could stop herself, she added, “And a couple slices of bacon.”

Hermione’s mouth tugged up into a self-satisfied smile, obviously happy that Bellatrix wasn’t going to skip breakfast and waste away. “Hurry up,” she nodded, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips.

When Hermione left, Bellatrix turned back to the mirror and glared at herself. 

“See, that’s your problem,” she hissed at her reflection. “No fucking self restraint!”

* * *

Thursday evening, June 4th 2009  
(89 days until September 1st)

Nearly three weeks later, Hermione staggered through the Floo into the living room. It was a little after eight, a crisis at work had kept her late at the office, and she felt half blind with exhaustion and hunger. Shrugging out of her jacket, she tossed it carelessly over the back of the couch, and was too tired to even care when it slid onto the floor.

A bit of motion under the jacket caught her eye and she sidestepped just in time to avoid the huge ball of silver fur that streaked out from under the material before it barrelled into her shins. Hermione bent down and hefted the cat up into her arms, wincing a little when her back protested. God, sometimes Hermione forgot how heavy the cat was, but she purred affectionately. 

“Sorry, beautiful. I didn’t notice you there,” Hermione crooned, and scratched behind the massive Maine Coon’s tufty ears. 

She took a few steps further into the living room and cursed under her breath when her feet got tangled in something and she stumbled, nearly falling flat on her face. The cat leapt out of her arms with a disgruntled mewl and scrambled away, nails scratching frantically on the hardwood in the hall. Hermione braced herself against the arm of the couch and glared down at the black and white Nike trainers that had been kicked carelessly into the middle of the floor. 

She frowned. 

She’d never seen those shoes before. 

Then something else caught her attention. Beneath the smell that she associated with home (a mixture of coffee, fresh laundry and books), Hermione smelled the unmistakable aroma of hot, delicious Chinese food. 

Quickly, she walked into the foyer and called, “Bella?”

“Kitchen,” came the distant reply, and Hermione hurried down the hall. 

When she stepped into the warm kitchen she found Bellatrix swaddled in her dressing gown pouring wine into glasses. She was freshly showered, her hair was still a little damp and she smelled like cedar and vanilla. The cat trotted over to Bellatrix and wound herself around her ankles a few times before Bellatrix nudged her away with her foot and scowled at her. 

“What’s all this?” Hermione asked when Bellatrix pressed a glass into her palm and guided her into a chair at the kitchen table. “Have I forgotten an anniversary or something?”

“Dinner,” Bellatrix said proudly, and gestured to the foil containers on the table. 

Hermione gawped, after ten years, Bellatrix still surprised her. But she wasn’t complaining though and hastily ripped open the containers. God, it had to be a mirage. Her mouth watered at the glorious sight of prawn crackers and her favourite beef curry. “I can’t believe you actually went to the Chinese.”

“Don’t make a fuss. I am capable of picking up a bloody takeaway,” Bellatrix said, and pressed a kiss into Hermione’s hair before summoning cutlery and a plate and dropping into a chair next to her. 

Hermione spooned curry onto her plate and her heart soared at the sight. The cat, who was affectionately known as Lady Grey, let out a loud, hearty wail and started pawing at her bowl - which was full she noted. 

“Shut it, you fluffy little fucker. I’ve already fed you,” Bellatrix glared down at the cat. 

“Don’t call her that,” Hermione scolded teasingly. She looked down at Lady Grey, who was now rolling on her back next to Bellatrix’s foot, doing her best starving animal impression. “Mummy didn’t mean it, baby. She’s just jealous of your fabulous coat.”

The cat mewled pitifully like the diva Hermione knew she was and Bellatrix rolled her eyes, muttering darkly under her breath. Bellatrix wasn’t Lady Grey’s biggest fan and Hermione knew that the dark witch only tolerated the cat’s existence for her sake. Bellatrix said the cat was an attention whore and often complained that Lady Grey’s fur made her eyes itch, but Hermione knew better. 

Their old boy Crookshanks had passed away last year, and even though Bellatrix had always acted somewhat apathetic towards him, it didn’t escaped Hermione that although Bellatrix had been a rock throughout the ordeal, she had also been rather upset when Crookshanks had died. Bellatrix and the half Kneazle had shared an intense bond and maybe Hermione should’ve waited longer than a couple of weeks before getting another cat, but the terrible loneliness she’d felt at an empty house had made grieving Crookshanks difficult. Hermione knew that Bellatrix thought of Lady Grey as a replacement rather than a new companion and that was probably why she held a lot of resentment towards the theatrical Maine Coon.

“Did you give her the tuna I left out?” Hermione asked. 

Bellatrix’s lip curled. “No.”

“That’s probably why she’s acting up. She gets tuna on Thursday.”

Bellatrix looked less than impressed and said, “You spoil that animal. Bloody thing thinks it’s Lady of the manor.”

“Well, she was named after royalty,” Hermione grinned.

“Yes, and Lady Jane Grey was Queen for all of nine days then had her bloody head cut off.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes and picked up her fork, digging into her meal as if it was the last piece of sustenance left on earth. “You didn’t need to run out and buy me dinner, you know. I would’ve been happy with beans on toast or something if you didn’t want to make a big dinner this late.”

“I grabbed it on the way home,” Bellatrix told her, then her eyes rolled heavenwards as if she’d spoken out of turn and she cursed softly under her breath.

Hermione’s eyebrow crept up, “Oh?”

Bellatrix tried to school her features into something resembling nonchalance but the faint streak of pink across her cheeks told Hermione that she was anything but nonchalant. “I was at Andy’s when you sent your Patronus to say you’d be late,” she said. “So she talked me into going a jog with her.”

Hermione nearly choked on a mouthful of fried rice and dropped her fork on the table with a clatter.

A jog.

Out of all the things Bellatrix could’ve been doing, going a jog with Andromeda was the very last thing Hermione ever expected her to do. She was speechless for a moment until she finally managed to croak, “You went...a jog?”

She didn’t know why Bellatrix going running bothered her so much. In fact, the mental image of Bellatrix wearing some sort of skimpy lycra ensemble like the outfits Andromeda wore when she exercised should’ve been a massive turn on, but instead she was seized by an intense feeling of foreboding. And the fact that the dark witch obviously hadn’t meant to let it slip bothered her even more. 

Why the big secret? 

“Yes.” Bellatrix cocked her eyebrow and smirked at her over the rim of her wine glass. “You’ve heard of them, right? It’s like a walk only a bit faster. I swear, I thought I was dying.”

Hermione’s eyebrows drew together in a frown.

“Oh, don’t look so worried, love. Andy said she’d resuscitate me if I keeled over,” she reassured with a wide grin. 

Bellatrix sometimes used humour to deflect from awkward situations so it was painfully obvious that she was feeling embarrassed by the admission.

But Hermione wasn’t laughing.

“Oh.” Hermione bit her lip. “So the trainers in the living room...”

Bellatrix finished her wine and carried her glass over to the sink. “Andy’s. She let me borrow them. And some swanky shorts.”

“Right.” Hermione took another bite of dinner but the food tasted like ash in her mouth. “Have you eaten? Do you want to share this with me?”

“Andy fed me.” Then through a clearly faked yawn, Bellatrix said, “I’ll run you a bath shall I?” 

“Oh, won’t you stay while I finish this? You can tell me about your day?” Hermione implored. “I’ll be quick and we can go upstairs together?”

“Sorry, sweetness. I’m knackered after all that exercise and I could really do with a lie down,” Bellatrix told her. 

“Oh, alright,” Hermione murmured quietly. “I’ll be up soon then. Go put your feet up.”

Bellatrix tousled Hermione’s hair affectionately as she passed her and said, “No rush, darling. Finish your dinner. I’ll put your favourite bubbles in the bath for you.” 

Hermione waited until she heard Bellatrix traipse up the stairs before she pushed her plate away. Had their relationship actually gotten to the point where they didn’t have anything to talk about anymore? 

Later, after Hermione had soaked in her bubble bath and silently slid into bed, Bellatrix was already asleep. Hermione didn’t even get her usual goodnight kiss, but she lay in the darkness wishing Bellatrix would wake up and give her one.

* * *

Friday morning, June 5th 2009  
(88 days until September 1st)

The next morning, Hermione got up early after a restless nights sleep and hurried into the office before Bellatrix woke. She had enough work to keep her mind busy and the morning was quick and uneventful. 

Come lunchtime, she’d actually run out of things to do and contemplated rearranging her office, when she felt the dread overcame her again and the heavy feeling that had made itself at home in her chest made itself known again. Only now she felt like her stomach was full of lead and her head began to throb. At least she had more headache tonic again and she knocked back a mouthful straight from the bottle. 

Then she had a thought and decided that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep things to herself any longer. With a sigh, she turned towards the fireplace and tossed a fistful of powder into the hearth. 

“Are you busy, Harry?” 

Harry, who had just taken a huge bite out of his roast beef sandwich, turned to regard Hermione’s head bobbing in the grate with mild surprise. “Nah, come on through,” he said, or at least that’s what it sounded like with his mouth full. 

Hermione’s head disappeared momentarily, then the flames flared green and she stepped into Harry’s office. 

Harry looked like he’d had a hellish morning and Hermione shook her head at the sight of him. His white shirt was rumpled, tie askew, and his hair, which he tried hard nowadays to tame into something reasonably acceptable for work, was messier than Hermione thought she’d ever seen it. 

“Alright, ‘Mione?” he asked, swallowing his food and washing it down with a noisy gulp of tea. 

She smiled wanly and dropped into the spare chair in front of his desk with a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly.

Harry’s brow creased in concern and he dropped his half eaten sandwich onto his plate. “Sounds ominous. What’s wrong? Is it work?”

“Worse. Bella.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and raked her hand through her hair. “Have you noticed her acting rather...weird lately?” 

“You mean weirder than usual?” Harry asked, green eyes flashing with humour.

Hermione snorted a laugh. “Have you noticed though?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “I haven’t really seen her all that much recently, work’s been hectic and I think Gin’s about ready for a nervous breakdown.”

“Oh, everything alright?”

Harry shrugged again. “Lily’s teething and the boys are driving us mad. They’re fine for Molly during the day then turn into little psychos when she drops them off after I’ve finished work. Even Kreacher’s knackered.”

Hermione didn’t envy Harry, no wonder he looked so tired, and with Quidditch season just around the corner, Ginny had been away a lot for training with the Harpies. But despite herself, Hermione laughed lightly. 

Little Lily Potter was an angel (just not when she was cutting teeth), but Hermione knew first hand that James and Albus could be a handful. 

She’d offered to babysit them both one weekend back in February to give Harry and Ginny a bit of a break. Albus was normally quiet, and was often content to play quietly and amuse himself, but James was an instigator, and constantly wound Albus up until they started fighting. They’d argued and screamed and thrown toys at one another for hours that day until Bellatrix had completely lost the rag and banished them to chairs in separate rooms with sticking charms on their backsides. 

“I haven’t seen Bellatrix for a while,” Harry went on. “She was at Andy’s place when I dropped by to see Teddy a few weeks ago though. He wanted to show me his new wand.”

“What was she like?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “When you saw her?”

Harry smirked at that and said, “A bitchy, foul mouthed, sarcastic delight. Pretty standard, really.”

“Be serious, Harry.” She glared at him and shook her head, worried and confused.

“I am being serious,” Harry laughed. “She called me a specky twat.”

Hermione sighed and massaged her temples. “Bella’s been off for weeks. I’m getting worried,” she murmured.

Harry leaned back in his chair and asked, “Off how?”

“She’s...I don’t know how to describe it,” Hermione shook her head in despair. “She’s been doing things...differently.”

“What kind of things?” Harry asked, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

Hermione felt her face heat up and drew him a look that could’ve choked a snake. “Nothing like that! Definitely not that. In fact, it’s been weeks since we last had sex.”

Harry held a hand up and he grimaced. “Yeah, I was joking, ‘Mione. I don’t need to know what you two get up to in the bedroom.”

“But that’s just it though, Harry. We haven’t been up to anything,” Hermione nearly cried. “She won’t even let me touch her. She makes excuses all the time and says she’s tired.”

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking mortified. “Look, maybe I’m not the best person to discuss your lack of sex life with. Andy or Ginny would probably—“

“It’s not just the sex,” Hermione went on, barely stopping herself from snapping at Harry. “She’s been in a world of her own recently. She went jogging with Andy last night.” 

Harry stared at her, slack-jawed. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. She said that Andy persuaded her to go. She must’ve bribed Bella or Confunded her or something, because you know what she’s like. She’s so bloody antisocial, it’s beyond ridiculous. So why the hell would she go jogging? In public? Where there’s people? What’s she getting out of it? And - and she’s really been watching her weight recently. I’ve walked in on her weighing herself a few times. Then she looks guilty, like I’ve caught her doing something wrong and—“

“Alright. Stop.” Harry held his hand up. “‘Mione, you’re rambling.”

Hermione shook her head, “I’m sorry, Harry, but she’s been acting so out of character recently and—“

With a sudden burst of recollection, a long forgotten memory flitted to the forefront of her mind and words left her. With startling clarity it occurred to her in that moment how familiar Bellatrix’s behaviour had been of late and she was taken back to a warm August afternoon between her second and third year when her parents had received a phone call from her aunt that consequently made them stop talking to her uncle for a while. 

Hermione made a soft sound and fisted her hand over her mouth.

Why hadn’t she seen it earlier? 

“‘Mione?” Harry asked, concern lacing his tone. 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “What if — What if there’s someone else?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, and he asked, “You think she’s having an affair because she’s started exercising?”

The very thought of Bellatrix sharing her body with another made her stomach roll unpleasantly. Her heart started racing as she thought back on the last several weeks; trying to think of anything else recently that might’ve pointed to an affair. 

“I don’t know what I think, Harry. But all the signs are there.” She started counting off her fingers. “She’s been distant. We barely talk anymore. She’s making more effort with her appearance. Less sex.”

“Listen, ‘Mione,” Harry tried to reason, laughing a little now, but he sounded nervous. “Did you ever consider that maybe she’s just going through another one of her health kicks? Remember when she tried that soup diet thing with Andy? Bellatrix lasted four days and was practically climbing the walls for chocolate and a kebab, and Andy stuck it out for months and lost nearly two stone. I mean, it makes sense.”

“I suppose,” Hermione murmured, but she was unconvinced. “That doesn’t explain why she’s been so distant, though.”

Harry reached across the desk and gently clasped her hands between his. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she’s not having an affair.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I’m not, but one thing I do know for certain is that she’s completely mad for you, Hermione. She loves you.”

Hermione knew that Bellatrix loved her. 

But the question was, was Bellatrix still in love with her?

They’d been together a long time, and the lack of spark over the last several weeks was starting to concern her. 

No, not concern. 

Terrify. 

She was terrified. What if Bellatrix was bored? Bored of her, bored of their relationship? And as much as Harry had tried to reassure her, she couldn’t help but cling to the possibility that Bellatrix was trying to impress someone else. 

In fact, now more than ever she felt desperate enough to bring it up, even though she knew it would definitely cause an argument. But at least then they would be communicating with each other, even if it was in anger. She knew exactly how the argument would go, the same way as all the other arguments they’d had over the years, and she couldn’t help but fantasise about it as she left Harry’s office. 

They’d both know which buttons to push to rile the other up, and Hermione would push and push and push until Bellatrix admitted that she’d been seeing someone. In reality, they rarely argued, but when they did, Bellatrix would stalk away before things got too heated, then she’d come back later when things had simmered down, and make-up sex would commence. But in this daydream, Hermione would threaten to leave, and Bellatrix would grab her and pull her in. Hermione wouldn’t pull away, and they’d kiss roughly, all tongues and hot anger, tearing at each other’s clothes, fingers leaving marks on flushed skin and—

Hermione didn’t realise how tightly she’d been winding her fingers through her curls until she’d noticed a few strands wrapped around her fingers. 

God, she needed to get back to work. 

She needed to stay sane. 

She needed to get laid.

She needed to talk to Andromeda. 

Andy always knew what to do.


	3. Handle With Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 for you all. I was going to wait until Wednesday but some people *coughs* are impatient :D
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Talking to your sister is sometimes all the therapy you need — Unknown 

* * *

Wednesday morning, June 24th 2009  
(69 days until September 1st)

Bellatrix was pleased with herself. 

Exceptionally pleased with herself. 

Because a few weeks ago, any attempt she’d tried to make at running had her sputtering and wheezing like an old woman. And now, a burst of adrenaline had her pounding up the hill ahead of her sister. 

“You’re a bloody cheater!” Andromeda wheezed, finally catching up to her as they reached the top of Parliament Hill. 

“Nobody likes a sore loser, Andromeda,” Bellatrix teased, using her sisters full name because she knew it would rile her up even more.

Andromeda sat down heavily on an empty bench to catch her breath and scowled down at her scraped palms. “I would’ve won if I hadn’t tripped trying to avoid that daft little Pug. Damn thing just ran out right in front of me.”

Bellatrix laughed airily, stretching her leg against the bench. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages. Wait till I tell Teddy you hit the deck.”

“Don’t you dare! He’ll never let me live it down. At least the owner apologised and helped me up, you just left me,” Andromeda grumbled, cutting her a look as she brushed grit and dirt out of her scraped hands. 

Usually they jogged on the beach near Andromeda’s house, but Andromeda had Apparated to Bellatrix’s home in Hampstead that morning, fancying a change. There were several good places to run in London, but they’d ventured to nearby Hampstead Heath, which was a short walk away from Bellatrix’s old Victorian semi. 

Bellatrix sat down next to Andromeda on the bench and snatched her by the wrist so she could scrutinise her palm. 

“Ow! Be careful!” Andromeda hissed, sounding for all the world like a petulant teenager and not a witch in her fifties. 

“Oh, stop being a baby,” Bellatrix laughed again, releasing her wrist. She felt Andromeda bristle next to her and shook her head, knowing that her sister’s pride hurt more than her hands. “I’ll slap some Dittany on them when we go back to mine, alright?”

Andromeda grunted in reply, but offered Bellatrix a swig of water from her bottle. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and looked out over the golden London skyline. 

June had rolled around fast, and the sun that had been orange only an hour ago had turned into a yellow inferno. The heat felt claustrophobic despite the early hour and the beech tree next to the bench cast a pathetic patch of shade that did nothing for the almost overwhelming humidity. Bellatrix didn’t even want to see what her hair looked like but there was no doubt it was a frizzy disaster, she was just glad she’d tied it back before they’d left.

“You’re getting better,” Andromeda commented finally.

Bellatrix couldn’t help but preen at the compliment and, with just a tinge of haughtiness, said, “I am, aren’t I? And to think just a few weeks ago I couldn’t even run the length of myself without sounding like I was hacking up a lung.”

“Mm,” Andromeda hummed in agreement, then gave Bellatrix a sly, sidelong glance. “You were like an out of breath pig that first time.”

“Thanks,” Bellatrix said dryly. 

“But then, I suppose I wasn’t much better when I started running,” Andromeda admitted with a sigh. “I couldn’t run for shit.” Then she turned to Bellatrix and grinned. “I bet you feel dead chuffed with yourself for persevering though, eh?”

Bellatrix snorted and said, “You sound surprised, Andy?”

“A little. I didn’t expect you to stick it out for this long.”

Bellatrix’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh?”

“I just mean...” Andromeda hesitated, then laughed a little. “Well, you have the attention span of a goldfish, love. You get bored easily. Remember those piano lessons mum made us take? You threw a hissy fit after a couple of weeks because you didn’t want to do them any more.”

Bellatrix harrumphed and crossed her arms, but didn’t disagree with her. Her mother had once likened her to a magpie - easily distracted by shiny objects and, well, anything really. But the truth was that she had a voracious appetite for new and exciting things and she quickly lost interest if she felt like she was repeating something she was already good at. She needed to keep her mind entertained by challenging herself. Those piano lessons had been dull and repetitive. But running gave her the same thrilling adrenaline rush that duelling did, and that she would never get bored of. Anything that got your blood pumping was always worth doing in Bellatrix’s opinion. 

Bellatrix smiled a little at the memory. “Do you blame me?” she asked her sister. “That tutor mum hired was a gargoyle. She made us play the same damn song repeatedly even though it was piss easy.”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right,” Andromeda shrugged. “That woman was horrid, wasn’t she?”

“She was terrible. I haven’t been able to listen to Ode to bloody Joy again without having some sort of traumatic flashback.”

They shared a laugh.

“Anyway, I’m glad you stuck to running,” Andromeda went on. “It’s nice to have some company. And you’re a little trimmer I’ve noticed.”

Bellatrix rubbed her belly and shook her head disbelievingly, but she was smiling. “These shorts hide a multitude of sins.”

“Don’t be daft. You’re looking great, Bella,” Andromeda reassured and gave her an encouraging smile. 

Bellatrix grimaced, unconvinced. “I’m...a little rounder than I used to be.”

Andromeda laughed wryly and her eyes lingered on her own stomach for a moment. “Aren’t we all. If only we were immune to the passage of time, eh?” Then she grinned wickedly and nudged Bellatrix playfully in the ribs, brown eyes shining with mischief. “Hermione obviously doesn’t mind though, else she wouldn’t let you shag her senseless every night.”

“Not every night,” Bellatrix huffed. “My stamina is nowhere near where it used to be.” 

Andromeda barked a laugh and winked at her, “Keep up the running then, love. Consistency will improve your endurance.”

Bellatrix couldn’t help but laugh outright at that. “Is that why you run, Andy? To keep up with your toy boy?” she asked, referring to Andromeda’s husband. 

“Alec’s only six years younger than me. I’m barely a cougar,” Andromeda grinned wickedly. “You, on the other hand, are a bloody cradle snatcher.”

“We’ve been over this, Hermione pursued me. So what does that make her?”

Andromeda smiled sweetly and said, “A grave robber.”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she shoved at Andromeda’s shoulder. “Piss off, you!” she growled, and they both dissolved into helpless giggles. 

“Seriously though,” Andromeda said, wiping her eyes when their laughter had finally tapered off. “I think my Alec secretly likes that I’ve got a bit of a belly. I get the impression it’s a turn on for him.”

Bellatrix considered Andromeda’s words for a moment. It was one of the things she liked most about her brother-in-law, the way he adored every inch of Andromeda - even all the extra inches she was currently trying to get rid of. Then she vaguely recalled the first time she’d slept with Rodolphus after the mass Azkaban breakout and how his comments about her aging body had been enough to put her off sex entirely until she’d eventually fallen into bed with Hermione. 

Over the years, Hermione had helped her see past most of her insecurities, past everything she thought was wrong, and the young witch never seemed to tire of telling her how beautiful she was and how much she loved her. But recently no amount of praise or encouragement took away the feeling of being physically and emotionally vulnerable in front of Hermione. She shivered just thinking about that, because vulnerability was terrifying, and it was the very last thing she wanted anybody to see in her. 

Andromeda must’ve sensed her sudden inner turmoil because she touched her hand gently and said, “Bella?”

“We haven’t fucked in forever,” Bellatrix blurted loudly. So loud an old man walking his decrepit border collie gave her a stern look, but Bellatrix was oblivious. 

Andromeda gave the old man an apologetic look and waited until he’d shuffled away before smirking, “How long’s forever to you? Three days?”

“Try nearly three months,” Bellatrix said glumly. 

“Oh.” Andromeda rose her brow curiously and let out a long, low whistle. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s not her, it’s me. I’ve been avoiding sex like the Dragon Pox since...”

“Since?” Andromeda prompted, shaking her head. “What’s going on?”

“Honestly?” Bellatrix sighed.

“Well, it would save time,” Andromeda said simply. Bellatrix was silent and started chewing her thumb nail. “Come on, talk to me, Bella.”

“I haven’t been feeling myself recently,” Bellatrix admitted softy. 

“I had a feeling,” Andromeda said, sounding thoughtful, but if Bellatrix had been looking at her sister in that moment then she would’ve noted the knowing glint in Andromeda’s eyes. “You’ve started biting your thumb again.”

Bellatrix immediately dropperd her hand into her lap when she realised she was doing just that and gave Andromeda a wry smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I always knew I’d get old,” she sighed. “It was just a bit of a surprise how fast it happened.”

“Oh, love,” Andromeda murmured sympathetically. “Is that why it didn’t take much to convince you to come jogging with me? You’re usually so antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial, I’m socially selective. There’s a difference,” Bellatrix grumbled. Then her hands fluttered haphazardly over her body, and she said, “Anyway, I had to do something about...this. Everything’s in the wrong place.“

“Have you told Hermione how you feel?”

Bellatrix shook her head and muttered, “I can’t.” 

Growing up a Black, it had been drilled, or sometimes beaten, into her to never show her weaknesses. Hermione was privy to secrets that few others would scarcely believe, and Bellatrix knew that her witch would never use those secrets against her, but even after a decade, it was still hard for her to talk about things that were bothering her. 

Andromeda nodded understandingly, knowing fine well that her sister struggled to open up sometimes, and asked, “Would you like me to speak to her?” 

Bellatrix shook her head again. That was the very worst thing Andromeda could do. “God, no. I know you can’t hold your own piss sometimes but you can’t say anything. Promise me you won’t.”

Andromeda held her hands up, “Alright.”

“Promise,” Bellatrix said sharply.

Andromeda drew a cross over her heart, “I promise.”

Bellatrix’s shoulders dropped and in a small voice she said, “I just...I can’t bear it when she touches me, Andy. I keep pushing her away, but she won’t take the bloody hint. It’s beyond me how she’d even want to shag me anyway. I mean, look at me. My hairs going grey and my tits are nearly touching my knees.”

Andromeda covered her face and burst into sudden hysterical laughter. Bellatrix cut her a look that could’ve stripped metal. Yes, it was maybe a slight exaggeration but there was no need for Andromeda to bloody laugh at her.

“Bitch, stop laughing at me.”

“Hermione loves you,” Andromeda told her, chuckling. “Does the fact that she keeps trying to get a leg over not tell you as much? I mean, obviously relationships aren’t all about the sex, but if she didn’t want you, do you really think she’d be so persistent?”

Bellatrix didn’t answer her, because deep down she knew that Andromeda was right. But for the first time in a long time, she felt scared. Not scared of ageing exactly, no, because that was inevitable, wasn’t it? But scared that Hermione would wake up one morning and realise that the changes in her body were too different from the Bellatrix Black she’d fallen for all those years ago. 

And although a decade of sitting behind a desk at the Ministry meant that Hermione wasn’t the willowy teenager she’d once been either, people still stared. Why wouldn’t they? They stared because she was Hermione Granger, the war heroine who’d shacked up with an old hag of a Death Eater. But they also stared because she was still young and slim and beautiful. Merlin, Hermione wasn’t even thirty yet, not till September anyway, but the thought of being in a relationship with a woman still in her twenties when she was sixty in a few years terrified her. 

Because Bellatrix knew that Hermione wasn’t oblivious to the stares she got, after all, she was somewhat of a celebrity. And Bellatrix’s biggest fear was that one day Hermione would stare back and realise that there was someone better out there who she could share her heart and her body with. 

Someone younger, someone thinner, someone more beautiful, someone less damaged, someone less...Bellatrix. 

The whole thing was just depressing really and Bellatrix couldn’t help but feel so, so...

Helpless, she thought angrily. 

So bloody helpless.

And Hermione had been late home most nights recently. It wasn’t uncommon for her to spend the odd late night at the office, but for two weeks now Bellatrix had ate dinner by herself and had long gone to bed before Hermione had came home. She couldn’t help but think it was the beginning of the end.

“Look, try not to let your anxieties about your age stop you from enjoying sex,” Andromeda said kindly. “It’s normal to want to look good and please your other half, but darling, after a certain age your body changes. Even Cissy has a fat arse now. I can’t believe you’ve been neglecting your missus all this time because you’ve put on a bit of weight.”

“It’s more than a bit,” Bellatrix muttered. 

“Behave yourself,” Andromeda rolled her eyes and patted her stomach. “I’m not as skinny as I used to be either. Alec doesn’t give a shit and Hermione won’t either. Don’t make the poor girl wait forever.”

Bellatrix stared down at her stomach, sucking it in. Andromeda was right. She always was. But Bellatrix wasn’t going to admit that to her. She’d never hear the end of it otherwise. 

“Let’s head back,” Bellatrix suggested, done with the conversation, and they both stood from the bench. “Get some Dittany on your mitts. And I’m gasping for a brew.”

“You’ll be gasping for a shag as well,” Andromeda grinned. “When Hermione gets home from work tonight you better start grovelling, Bellatrix Black.”

Despite herself, and the slight panic that those words filled her with, Bellatrix smiled. “Thanks, sis. I needed that pep talk.”

“Anytime, love,” Andromeda said as they started a slow jog back down the hill.

* * *

Wednesday night, June 24th 2009

The day after her chat with Harry, Hermione had confided in Andromeda during her lunch break, and after a long heartfelt conversation about Bellatrix over tea, Andromeda had promised to do some investigating. Because if there was anyone who could help her get to the bottom of what was wrong with Bellatrix, it was Andromeda. 

Andromeda Black - well, she was Macmillan now - was the very best sort of person. A woman with a kind heart, a fierce spirit, and a biting wit that Hermione had always found deeply amusing. She was a listener, the first person Hermione would think to contact when she needed to vent; the peacemaker of their dysfunctional little family, the one who worked through issues and disagreements without taking sides even if she didn’t always agree with the things being said. 

She was, and always had been, endlessly supportive. Andromeda was the one who’d offered Hermione a quiet place to study when she was sitting her NEWT’s independently after the War, despite barely knowing Hermione at the time. Andromeda was the one who’d been there for girly chats when she’d broken up with Ron and he’d been stroppy for weeks. And Andromeda was the one who’d understood her the most when Hermione had realised that the thing she shared with Bellatrix was so much more than just a dirty fling. 

Most importantly, Andromeda was the one who’d given her the most insight into Bellatrix’s psyche. Bellatrix was a woman who needed to be handled with care Andromeda had said once, because a surprisingly fragile soul resided beneath her sister’s hard exterior. Hermione knew from the very start that pursuing a relationship with Bellatrix wouldn’t be easy, but once it became evident that a Bellatrix with Hermione by her side was a much calmer, gentler Bellatrix, everyone had collectively nodded their heads and gladly accepted the new normal. 

Andromeda knew Bellatrix better than anybody, probably better than Bellatrix knew herself. And despite their years of estrangement and their somewhat rocky reconnection after the War, it was Andromeda’s love and understanding of Bellatrix that made her the perfect person to confide in now that things were a little strained. 

The woman really was a treasure. 

Hermione had been almost ecstatic to see Andromeda’s head in her office Floo that afternoon. The older witch had told her that she’d managed to speak with Bellatrix on their morning run and that there was absolutely nothing to worry herself about, then they’d chatted briefly until Andromeda had excused herself to get ready for a shift at work. But despite Andromeda’s assurances, Hermione didn’t feel at all pacified. It didn’t sit right with her that the older woman seemed so certain that nothing was wrong with Bellatrix, even though they’d discussed her odd behaviour at length. 

But what more could she do? 

So for the rest of that afternoon she’d tried hard not to torture herself with made up scenarios of Bellatrix sneaking around behind her back. Instead, she’d attempted to occupy her mind by thinking about all the things Bellatrix did that made her smile. Like the way her hands flailed when she was excited about something. And the way she hummed along to the wireless when she was styling her hair in the mornings. Or when her eyes lit up whenever Teddy shared his favourite Muggle confectionary with her. 

But despite it all, her thoughts still troubled her. 

It was pushing ten by the time she got home that night. In fact, she’d been home late most nights for the past two weeks. She didn’t particularly like working late and had always made a point to try and be home by six o’clock at the very latest, but she felt like keeping busy was the only thing she could do to distract herself from all the troubling thoughts inside her head right now. 

Hermione knew that she was probably being counterproductive, because despite Andromeda’s reassurances, she still couldn’t help but think that Bellatrix could be fooling around with someone else, and all her late nights were giving the dark witch ample opportunity to do so. But then, what if there was no affair at all? What if she’d allowed her imagination to run away with her and it was all just a big misunderstanding? 

As usual, a plate of dinner was being kept warm for her under a stasis charm on the counter when she trudged through the hearth into the kitchen. It was some sort of chicken dish tonight, accompanied by rice and vegetables. Another one of Bellatrix’s culinary masterpieces no doubt, but Hermione found that she had little appetite for food tonight even though the meal looked and smelled delicious. 

Bellatrix was the cook of the house, and Hermione had always been more than willing to give her full run of the kitchen. For Hermione, cooking was a necessary evil, and she loathed it with a passion. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook, it was just that cooking reminded her of the time she’d spent in the forest with Harry and Ron. She’d found out rather quickly that the boys had been completely useless doing anything with food that didn’t involve eating it. Ron clearly hadn’t inherited his mother’s penchant for cooking and Harry burned everything he touched which meant that, by default, Hermione had prepared all the meals. 

But Bellatrix enjoyed doing it, it was a surprising secret talent of hers, and Hermione loved to watch her prepare dinner in the ‘I Cook As Good As I Look’ apron she’d bought for her as a gag gift several Christmases ago. She’d never expected Bellatrix to actually wear it, but she did, and the very thought of the dark witch dancing around the kitchen in it as she prepared dinner warmed Hermione’s heart.

Then she was struck with a sudden paralysing fear and she couldn’t help but wonder if Bellatrix had worn that apron to make dinner for anybody else, and tears sprang to her eyes. Merlin alive, Hermione thought to herself, shaking her head sadly. Was she actually envisioning her Bella entertaining another in this kitchen with her silly dinnertime antics? 

Well, of course she was. 

She supposed she could now add that particular thought to the list of various other intrusive daydreams that had haunted her recently, along with the one where she finds Bellatrix in bed with a faceless stranger and the one where she comes home from work to find a note telling her that Bellatrix had left and was never coming back. 

Shaking her head, she hurried out into the hall and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart before her panic turned into full blown hysteria. She dropped down to sit at the bottom of the stairs, her thoughts a jumbled mess of hope and despair. 

Looking around in a bid to ground herself, she took in the bits of Bellatrix and herself that were scattered around the hall: the pile of clean laundry halfway up the stairs that had yet to be put away, the wallpaper they’d picked together, Bellatrix’s favourite sunflowers that had been charmed to endlessly bloom on the table by the front door. She marveled at the flowers a little bit, loving how the colour popped against the cool grey walls and dark walnut flooring in the hall. 

The flowers calmed her somewhat and she eventually felt composed enough to drag herself up the stairs to their bedroom. Bellatrix was surely already asleep; these days she usually gave out around ten on weekdays, sometimes earlier if she’d been for an evening run with Andromeda. 

Hermione quickly removed her work clothes in the dark, dumping them carelessly in a heap, then groped blindly for the nightie under her pillow, and slipped into bed. 

The duvet rustled and the bed dipped a little when Bellatrix rolled towards her, murmuring, “‘Mione?”

“Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Hermione whispered in lieu of a greeting. 

“S’fine. I tried to wait up for you.” Bellatrix reached out under the duvet and ran a slow hand down Hermione’s side. “Where’ve you been?”

“I had some work to finish at the office,” Hermione said quietly, feeling her eyes drift closed when Bellatrix’s fingers curled around her hip. But despite the delicious shiver that her dark witch’s touch sent tingling down her spine, she couldn’t help but bristle at Bellatrix’s slightly accusing tone. 

“No, where’ve you been all week?” Bellatrix asked, then as an afterthought added, “And last week?” She shuffled closer until her breasts were pressed flush against Hermione’s back and laughed softly against her ear. “I’ve barely seen my girlfriend recently.”

Hermione snorted - it was the closest she’d been to a laugh in some time, she thought - and asked coyly, “Girlfriend? Didn’t we agree years ago that we were a bit long in the tooth for all that?”

“Well, partner makes us sound like business associates,” Bellatrix snarked playfully. 

The corner of Hermione’s mouth tugged into a smile. “You’re bloody ridiculous, did you know that?”

“Of course,” Bellatrix hummed, and nudged Hermione’s hair aside with her nose so she could brush her lips softly against her neck. “Seriously though, you’d think the DMLE would have enough in their budget to hire you an assistant or something. Maybe then you’d be home at a reasonable time.”

“Mm, maybe,” Hermione said absently, feeling goosebumps shoot down her arms with the whisper of Bellatrix’s warm breath against her skin. 

“You’ve been alright though, haven’t you? Not working too hard?”

“Everything’s fine, love,” Hermione brushed off her concern, eager to find out where Bellatrix was going with her kisses. She feigned ignorance and asked, “What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” Bellatrix said, and pressed another soft kiss to Hermione’s neck. “I went for a run with Andy this morning.”

“Did you? What was the weather like down in Devon today?”

“Couldn’t tell you, love. Andy fancied a change, so we went a run through the Heath instead and I raced her up to the top of Parliament Hill. Oh, and she tripped over a Pug.”

Oh, Andromeda neglected to mention that when she’d called earlier. Hermione was about to laugh but her breath caught in her chest when Bellatrix’s fingers plucked at the hem of her nightdress.

“I’ve missed you,” Bellatrix whispered breathily.

“I’ve missed—“

The sudden pressure of Bellatrix’s hand between her legs made her feel like a bolt of electricity had just shot down her spine. 

Then Bellatrix started trailing wet biting kisses along the soft underside of her jaw and Hermione’s body answered with a throbbing in her core that was so deep and needy it made her moan shamelessly. She arched her neck back to give Bellatrix more access and Bellatrix sucked roughly at her flickering pulse point. Then Hermione started rolling her hips, straining desperately towards the fingers that started firmly stroking her through her underwear. 

Hermione groaned and opened her legs. 

Bellatrix’s mouth ignited a scorching path down Hermione’s neck as her wet lips trailed over the thin scar across her throat - a tiny reminder of the trauma Hermione had survived at the hands of a madwoman. A madwoman who was now making her feel like her whole body had been consumed by Fiendfyre. 

Sweet Merlin, it had been weeks since she’d felt like this, and she was suddenly desperate for more. And Bellatrix must’ve felt just as desperate as she did because they were kissing now, deep and urgent, and through her fog of lust, Hermione became vaguely aware of Bellatrix grinding against her hip.

They both groaned into each other’s mouths, tongues twisting together, wet and hot. Bellatrix’s clever fingers sent her arousal soaring, but Hermione needed more, and their kisses bumped and faltered when she fumbled to push her knickers down. 

“Patience,” Bellatrix panted roughly. “I’ve been neglecting you. Let me take care of you, darling.”

Hermione whimpered but managed to push her knickers down to her ankles and kick them off. “Bella,” she moaned and reached back to tangle her fingers in Bellatrix’s hair. 

At this stage she neither wanted nor needed anymore foreplay, and hoped that Bellatrix didn’t make her wait for it - a game they usually liked to play - because right now the need to be fucked by this woman was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. “I can’t wait...don’t make me wait...”

“Bossy,” Bellatrix chuckled darkly, and licked the delicate shell of Hermione’s ear, sliding her fingers through the slickness between her legs. 

Hermione gasped and shuddered. She wanted to roll over and dance her fingers over every soft hollow and firm plane of Bellatrix’s body, but Bellatrix was pressed so tightly against her back that Hermione could feel the thumping tattoo of her heartbeat against her spine, and when she tried to turn, intent on straddling her witch, Bellatrix kept her pinned in place.

Hermione hissed and tried to inch her hips closer to Bellatrix’s fingers, “Please, Bella — Merlin!.”

Bellatrix withdrew her hand briefly and dug her fingers into Hermione’s soft thigh, easing her legs further apart. “Wider,” she commanded. “Don’t be shy, now.”

Hermione adjusted her body so Bellatrix could hook her leg around hers, and when she was spread open, Bellatrix wasted no time and thrust two fingers roughly inside her. 

Hermione’s eyes closed tight and her head rocked back onto Bellatrix’s shoulder. Needing more, she tilted her hips in time with Bellatrix’s hard strokes. 

“That nice?” Bellatrix panted.

“Please,” Hermione moaned. “Oh, please.”

“Please what?” Bellatrix asked in a ragged whisper. She pressed firmly on Hermione’s throbbing clit with her thumb, moving in tight circles until Hermione’s thighs were trembling. “What do you need, darling?”

“More. P-please, I need more.”

Bellatrix increased the tempo and sucked a bruising kiss onto the flushed skin at her neck, breathless with the exertion of her thrusts. 

“Yes,” Hermione mewled. “Yes. Don’t stop. Please, please, don’t stop.”

Faster now, Bellatrix pumped into her mercilessly. Hermione was so hot, the duvet covering them was suffocating, and she blindly pushed it off, then tugged hard at Bellatrix’s hair, bringing their lips together once more. 

Then, with a tiny, almost inaudible cry, Hermione came. 

It was quick, embarrassingly so, but after weeks of abstinence, Hermione didn’t care. Bellatrix’s face was buried in the crook of her neck now, her breast heaving in an uneven rhythm against her back. Hermione felt dazed, only vaguely aware of Bellatrix’s hot, slick skin pressed against her and her warm breath ghosting over her collarbone. But she was just pleased that Bellatrix didn’t withdraw her hand straight away, and Hermione felt her core muscles flutter around Bellatrix’s fingers as she trembled with aftershocks. 

She didn’t think of her recent woes or of Bellatrix’s odd, troubling behaviour. Instead, her mind emptied of everything except how much she loved this woman and her heart soared when Bellatrix lifted her head and nipped affectionately at her lips before pressing their mouths together. 

Finally, after a long few minutes of deep, lazy kissing, they drew apart for breath, and Bellatrix slowly slid her hand from between Hermione’s legs. Hermione found herself sobbing a little at the feeling of loss, but then her eyes widened when Bellatrix’s dark heavy lidded gaze locked with hers and she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth and started to lick them clean.

It was, Hermione thought, one of the most intimate, exposing moments she had shared with Bellatrix in a while. 

To be looked at the way Bellatrix was looking at her now as she slowly, sensually, lapped at the fingers that had been buried so deeply within her a moment ago. Her desire flared to life once more at the sight, swirling hot and thick low in her belly, and Hermione had half a mind to flip them over and straddle Bellatrix’s face so the dark witch could put her talented tongue to good use elsewhere. 

“Sorry, dove,” Bellatrix whispered huskily, pulling Hermione from her reverie. “I’m so greedy sometimes.” She reached out and cupped Hermione’s cheek. Hermione leaned into the touch, kissing the centre of her palm, then caught Bellatrix’s finger in her mouth when Bellatrix swiped her sticky thumb over Hermione’s kiss swollen bottom lip. “Suck,” Bellatrix commanded. 

Hermione could feel the dark witch’s body practically quiver when she started to suck and lick at her thumb, tongue rolling softly, devouring the sweetness of her own desire. 

“Good girl,” Bellatrix managed in a strangled whisper. 

Bellatrix hadn’t sounded like that in weeks, all hoarse and sexy, and Hermione hummed in pleasure around her finger. Bellatrix was staring at her with so much intensity that Hermione thought she might melt and disappear, and desire coiled so tightly inside her that it almost hurt. 

“If only you knew all the naughty things I’m imagining you doing with that tongue.”

Inspiration struck at Bellatrix’s words and Hermione bit her finger, trapping it gently between her teeth so she could swirl her tongue around the pad of her thumb, mimicking the same movements she often used to tease Bellatrix’s clit when her face was buried between her thighs. 

Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered and she inhaled sharply through her nose, “Bloody hell,” she breathed. 

Hermione couldn’t help but grin around the sticky digit in her mouth. Bellatrix was still transfixed by the movement of her lips and tongue as they swept around her finger, then her eyes briefly lost focus and Hermione imagined Bellatrix’s thoughts were probably racing with the suggestive movements she was making with her tongue. 

“Ah, that’s quite enough, you wicked little minx,” Bellatrix finally said, and slid her thumb out of Hermione’s mouth. 

But Hermione was far from finished.

She leaned up and bit Bellatrix’s full lower lip, tugging her closer. Bellatrix exhaled a tiny surprised breath into her mouth. It was a desperately needy sound, and one so uncharacteristic of the dark witch that it made Hermione’s belly roll pleasantly. And with Bellatrix momentarily caught off guard, Hermione quickly untangled herself from her loosened grip and shoved her hard onto her back. 

“Hermione—“ A flash of surprise crossed Bellatrix’s face even though her legs fell instinctively to cradle Hermione’s hips, “Hermione, wait!”

The panic in Bellatrix’s tone was evident. 

She recoiled, almost as if she was trying to disappear into the mattress, and she shied away from Hermione’s touch just like she’d done every other night they’d ended up in this situation. Hermione noted the way Bellatrix fisted her hands in her nightdress, tugging it down, and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what she was trying to hide, but Hermione wasn’t deterred and she started to lightly roll her hips, hoping the motion would spur Bellatrix on.

“Let me fuck you,” she whispered, begged really. “Please, Bella. You haven’t let me touch you in weeks.”

“I don’t—“ Bellatrix’s voice was thick, like she was on the verge of tears, and Hermione watched her throat bob as she swallowed. 

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Bellatrix breathed, and turned her face away from Hermione. “I just — I just wanted to...”

Hermione could feel Bellatrix starting to withdraw into herself, both physically and emotionally. It was disheartening and it made her chest ache. So she stilled her hips and reared back a little to look down at her, and even through the murky darkness of their bedroom, she could see the storm of emotions brewing behind Bellatrix’s eyes. 

The air between them was suddenly so brittle that Hermione feared it might snap, and she became acutely aware of the weight compressing her chest again. It sat there, behind her lungs, constricting her breathing until she felt her spine tingle with anxiety. Heat radiated from every inch of Bellatrix, especially from between her legs, but Hermione noted that she was trembling. 

Hermione didn’t anticipate the feelings of inadequacy that suddenly washed over her. She found herself wondering what it was about her that had been unable to hold her lover’s interest of late. And then she felt guilty. Because Bellatrix’s reluctance to go any further was almost palpable and the look of dismay on her face made Hermione’s insides twist into tight knots. 

What in Merlin’s name was happening here? 

Hermione was a second away from rolling off of her and demanding an explanation when Bellatrix exhaled a shaky breath and reached up to take Hermione’s face between her trembling hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, and drew Hermione down for the softest of kisses. “I’m sorry...”

Hermione cupped Bellatrix’s jaw and hummed against her mouth, but the kiss did little to ease the worry bubbling in her gut. Then Bellatrix gently shifted to brush their noses together and Hermione could’ve wept at the rare, gentle display of affection.

She seemed so vulnerable in that moment and it made Hermione remember Andromeda’s words from all those years ago. 

Handle with care. 

So she tilted her head to bury her face in Bellatrix’s buoyant curls, breathing in the heady scent of cedar and vanilla. “Beautiful,” she murmured, and her heart leapt when she felt Bellatrix soften beneath her. “My beautiful Bella.”

Bellatrix made a soft sound and skimmed her palms up Hermione’s thighs. 

Hermione groaned at the sensation of Bellatrix’s fingers when they dug into her hips. “Talk to me, Bella,” she pleaded.

But Bellatrix leaned up and captured her lips in another kiss. Hard enough to bruise this time. Hermione wasn’t fooled. She knew Bellatrix was trying to shut her up. 

“Fuck me,” the dark with whispered, and her burning gaze ignited a fire deep within Hermione’s soul. “Please, just fuck me.”

Hermione didn’t need told twice and moved to straddle Bellatrix’s thigh. She could feel Bellatrix’s hard nipples press against her through the material of their nightdresses and, God, the sensation made her shiver. She needed to touch them, to feel the soft, warm weight of them cradled in her palm, so she slid her hand up and under Bellatrix’s sinfully short nightdress and pushed the material up over her belly. 

Bellatrix moaned and writhed beneath her, grinding hard against the thigh that Hermione had pressed up against her hot centre, and Hermione was thrilled to discover that her witch wasn’t wearing knickers when the trim hair between her legs brushed against her skin. Hermione slowly tugged and pinched a stiff nipple between her fingers, as slow as the deep, languid kisses they were trading, as slow as the roll of Bellatrix’s hips against her leg, as slow as the fingers that Bellatrix dragged through her hair. 

Hermione marvelled at how wet Bellatrix was despite her reluctance moments ago. She was wet too, and there was no doubt she was leaving the evidence of her own arousal smeared all over Bellatrix’s thigh. She moaned, soft and low against Bellatrix’s lips, and pulled away briefly to catch her breath. They shared another tender moment when Bellatrix tugged Hermione back down by her hair and they rested their foreheads together, ragged panting breaths ghosting over each other’s faces in the darkness. 

Bellatrix’s other hand snaked around Hermione’s hip to grab her arse, loosely aiding the gentle rock against her thigh. Hermione sat up and lightly raked her nails down Bellatrix’s abdomen and she couldn’t help but notice how much firmer the dark witch’s stomach was when the muscles fluttered under her touch. 

It was so bright in the room all of a sudden, a blade of moonlight shone in through a gap in the curtains and lit up Bellatrix’s face. 

Bellatrix practically glowed beneath her. She looked almost ethereal; her high cheekbones were streaked with a beautiful flush and her breast heaved with shallow breaths from her softly parted kiss swollen lips. Hermione felt the need in that moment to tell her just how beautiful she was again, so she did, and leaned in to whisper the words against Bellatrix’s mouth as she shifted her leg and slid into Bellatrix slowly, one finger first, then another. 

“F-fuck,” Bellatrix croaked, arching, shifting her hips impatiently. 

Hermione felt Bellatrix tense beneath her and around her, the way she always did whenever she slid her fingers into her for the first time, then started to stroke her with the firm come hither motion she knew drove Bellatrix wild. She whimpered at the feeling of Bellatrix’s inner muscles fluttering around her fingers and mouthed at her neck and jaw until she finally kissed her way back to Bellatrix’s lips once more. 

“You’re so wet,” Hermione hummed, momentarily slipping her fingers out to circle Bellatrix’s clit a few times before plunging back in again. 

“I don’t know why you sound so surprised,” Bellatrix ground out and her teeth caught the edge of her own lip. “It’s been bloody weeks.”

Hermione wanted to point out that she’d tried countless times over the past several weeks to initiate some nooky, but thought better of it. Instead, she redoubled her efforts, and Bellatrix dug her fingers almost painfully into her arse when she started using firm, circular motions to massage her G-spot. 

Hermione was briefly thankful that Teddy wasn’t staying over because the guttural moan that tore from Bellatrix’s throat in that moment was so loud she probably would’ve woken him. She recalled their first time together, in Andromeda’s spare bedroom, and how they’d feared they might’ve woken Teddy then too. 

The memory of that night and how Bellatrix had trembled and pleaded below her made her own clit pulse and throb. She’d thought of that night often in recent weeks, using the memory to bring herself to a quick, unsatisfying climax when Bellatrix was asleep beside her, even though the edges of the memory were blurred somewhat after ten years and mixed with other notable encounters. 

But she would never, could never, get enough of the noises Bellatrix made, all the rough moans and breathy sighs she coaxed from the dark witch with her fingers and her mouth - even the strap-on Andromeda had persuaded her to buy after one too many naughty lunchtime cocktails during one of their many shopping ventures into Muggle London! 

And she never wanted Bellatrix to make those noises for anybody else. 

Ever. 

She couldn’t lose Bellatrix. 

Not to anyone or anything. 

“Hermione,” Bellatrix whimpered, and it sounded for all the world like she was struggling to form any real words. “Fuck, Hermione.”

Bellatrix was close. 

Hermione knew by the way Bellatrix’s head was thrown back on the pillow. By the way her fingers untangled from Hermione’s hair and her hand thumped down onto the bed to grab at the sheets. By the light sheen of sweat that glistened on her flushed heaving chest. By the way her eyes were shut tight and the way her mouth hung open.

God, she was drop-dead gorgeous like this. 

Hermione almost wanted to draw her orgasm out. Tease her. Ask her if anyone else had ever made her feel this good. Make Bellatrix realise that no one would ever be able to fuck her as good, or as hard, or a deep as she could.

“Hermione,” Bellatrix said again, making her name sound like a plea. She trailed the fingers that had been biting into the soft flesh at Hermione’s rear around to squeeze her hip. “Can you come again?” she gasped, opening her eyes as Hermione’s fingers stilled inside her. “Together? Please?”

Hermione could only nod helplessly at that and after some awkward shuffling, Bellatrix turned her hand palm up on her thigh and Hermione slowly, easily, slid down onto her fingers. And then Hermione’s fingers were inside Bellatrix again as well, and it was so good, so intense, that they both groaned loudly. Hermione’s knees dug into the firm mattress as she sat astride Bellatrix’s thigh, expertly riding her fingers and grinding down into her palm. 

“Bella,” she whispered, mostly in awe at the molten look in Bellatrix’s eyes, but also because Bellatrix started flicking her thumb over her clit. Hermione’s hips jerked at the added pressure. She was a little sensitive from Bellatrix’s earlier ministrations, but she was so wet, and it felt so good. 

“Hard and fast, love,” Bellatrix rasped. 

Hermione obliged without question and grinned, because hard and fast was Bellatrix’s tell, and Hermione knew she was close when she wanted to be fucked that way. So with one hand on the soft plane of Bellatrix’s stomach for balance, she thrust into her relentlessly. And suddenly their hips were jerking without rhythm, and Hermione’s thighs trembled as she rode Bellatrix’s slender fingers, the echo of their ragged, panting breaths rang in her ears. She was close too, so close, and chased her second orgasm as best she could while trying to steadily drive Bellatrix towards her own. 

Then Hermione groaned when she glanced down and realised that Bellatrix’s hand had disappeared between her legs to furiously work at her own clit. 

Damn. 

The sight of Bellatrix touching herself was enough to topple Hermione over the edge into oblivion.

They didn’t come together, but Bellatrix climaxed almost immediately after, calling softly for Hermione before a long, deep groan clawed it’s way from her throat.

Hermione fell forwards and swallowed Bellatrix’s moans with a fierce kiss, teeth and tongues clashing, until Hermione rolled off of Bellatrix and onto her side. She rested her head against Bellatrix’s shoulder and they took some time to compose themselves, heavy breaths whispering over heated skin. She skimmed her hand tenderly down Bellatrix’s belly and smoothed down her wrinkled nightdress. 

“Bella?” Hermione whispered after some time had passed. 

Mm?” Bellatrix hummed sleepily and turned to look at her. Her eyes were heavy and a sated smile curled at the corner of her mouth. 

Hermione nuzzled Bellatrix’s face affectionately and asked, “You okay?”

“Am now,” Bellatrix assured her. 

For a moment, Hermione considered asking Bellatrix if she wanted to talk about what had happened tonight, but instead she murmured, “I’m very lucky to have you, you know?” 

Bellatrix pressed a soft kiss to Hermione’s face and after a beat she said softly, “I’m very lucky to have you too.”

Hermione swallowed thickly. “You’ve always taken very good care of me, Bella.” She felt Bellatrix’s breath stutter a little, but she pressed on. She needed Bellatrix to know that there was no one else for her, that she would lose herself completely if Bellatrix wasn’t a part of her life. She took a shaky breath, “I love you so very much.” 

“I love you too, sweetness.”

It didn’t take long for Bellatrix to drift off to sleep after that, but Hermione stayed awake and stroked her hair, basking in the rare look of peace on her witch’s face. 

“You’re mine,” Hermione whispered into the darkness.


	4. Unsteady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Another chapter. I’m good to ya’ll. Just some angsty, fluffy filler. 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

The best gift you are ever going to give someone - the permission to feel safe in their own skin. To feel worthy. To feel like they are enough — Hannah Brencher

* * *

Sunday morning, July 5th 2009  
(58 days until September 1st)

When Bellatrix was a little girl, her father used to tell her that if she couldn’t sleep, it meant that she was awake in someone else’s dream. 

She wasn’t sure if she still believed that or not, but if it was true, then when she found whoever was keeping her awake, she was going to punch then right in the fucking face. Because in the six or so hours that Bellatrix had been in bed, she must’ve woken eight or nine times. Not for very long each time mind, but still long enough to break her sleep into un-refreshing chunks. 

She’d forgotten what it was like to have a bloody normal sleeping pattern. Her eyes were heavy as she stared up at the dark ceiling, but her thoughts were heavier. Insomnia had haunted her nights for months. It was the reason she struggled to stay awake past nine most evenings, the reason she’d started smoking again, and part of the reason she’d been avoiding sex. 

It had been a little over a week since their last romp (and her last decent kip) and she seemed to have staved off most of Hermione’s advances for the time being, but their roll in the hay hadn’t stopped Hermione from constantly asking her if she was alright after she’d witnessed her mini meltdown. She knew that Hermione meant well and that she was obviously concerned, but the constant, “Are you okay’s?” were driving her round the bend. 

Her reaction to Hermione’s touch that night had been nothing short of embarrassing. Bellatrix had been stupid to think that Hermione wouldn’t have returned the favour, Hermione had never been a selfish lover, but she’d still been caught off guard when the younger witch had flipped her onto her back. Worse still, despite the fact that Hermione had been rather well behaved and had kept her hands (mostly) to herself in the last week, Bellatrix could tell that her witch was absolutely gagging for more. She didn’t know if Hermione even realised that she was oozing fuck-me vibes whenever she was around her. And even though their last encounter had been exactly what Bellatrix had needed at the time, she was still feeling a little iffy about sex no matter how much she wanted to grab Hermione and fuck her into the mattress. 

Having needs when she was still feeling so shitty about herself was starting to become a bit of an inconvenience. She only hoped that Hermione could hold out until she got her shit together - whenever that would be. Hermione had her strengths, but she was insistent, and when she wanted something, Bellatrix found it hard to deny her. 

Even in her state of exhaustion, Bellatrix’s thoughts raced and her mind flickered briefly to the cabinet in the bathroom and the small phial of Dreamless Sleep she’d hidden behind a bottle of mouthwash. God, she could really use a swig or two of that potion right about now because her eyes felt raw. Probably because she’d been awake for far too long now. 

She’d used the potion sporadically for a few weeks when the insomnia had first started until a long forgotten potions lesson had sprang to the forefront of her mind and she’d remembered old Slughorn warning the class that the stuff could be habit-forming if taken on a regular basis, so she’d stopped taking it again before substance abuse was added to the list of things that were currently wrong in her life. 

She’d tried other things too.

Warm scented baths had helped a little bit, but she’d promptly stopped when Hermione kept trying to join her. She’d even went through a phase of splashing whisky in her tea before bed, anything to knock her out. But she still couldn’t sleep.

She’d never felt such a craving for rest. Not since Azkaban and the endless moans and screams of her fellow Death Eaters in the high security wing had kept her awake for hours. Sometimes days. She longed for the days when her and her sisters were home from school for the summer and they’d stay up late gossiping about boys then sleep the rest of the night and long into the afternoon, irking their mother to no end.

Now, the usefulness of her thoughts had left hours ago and her mind was left reeling, tormenting her with demons both real and fictitious. The usual disaster fuelled fantasies plagued her and she couldn’t stop thinking about Hermione leaving her for someone younger or wondering if her own erratic behaviour meant that she’d finally lost what was left of her mind.

If her old sagging body wasn’t enough to drive Hermione away, then finally losing the rest of her marbles probably would. She’d known for years that things weren’t quite right upstairs. She’d discussed it at length with Andromeda several times, and as a witch who excelled in her field, her sister knew that prolonged exposed to the Cruciatus curse could cause problems in later life. Not to mention fifteen years in Azkaban had savaged her sanity. Even now her mind wandered and she knew she hadn’t came out with all the pieces she’d went in with. 

She knew that either one of those scenarios would disrupt her entire existence, but no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times Hermione told her she loved her, she couldn’t push those thoughts from her mind. Either way, Hermione deserved better. 

She sighed wearily and heard the scrape of wood on wood as she fumbled blindly in the darkness for the walnut and dragon heartstring on the bedside table. A quick Tempus charm told her that it was a little after three. She sat up and swung her legs out of bed, careful not to jostle the warm peaceful body beside her. She thought briefly about going downstairs for a cup of tea and a cigarette, but remembered she’d smoked the last of her fags a couple of nights ago, so she padded softly across the plush carpet and into the en suite instead.

The door closed with a soft snick and the light nearly blinded her as she gripped the sink and squinted blearily at herself in the mirror. She tilted her head left and right, scrutinising every wrinkle and contour of her face. She was pale and drawn, her eyes were bloodshot, and the circles under them were darker than they’d ever been before. 

God, she looked like shit. 

There just wasn’t enough make-up in the world to fix her fatigued skin. Even if she cracked out the good concealer she only used on special occasions she’d be lucky to hide those bags without resorting to some sort of glamour charm. 

And her hair.

It was in desperate need of washing and every new strand of silver nestled amongst her tangled mane of sable seemed to taunt her. She twisted a thick curl between her fingers and considered, not for the first time, dying it one of those fashionable in your face colours much vaunted in those hair adverts on Andromeda’s telly. 

Would her stylist at the salon think she’d gone completely mental if she asked her to turn her into a fiery chestnut? Or would it change her life to go completely out there and switch to something ludicrous like blue? Teddy would get a kick out of that for sure. And then she wondered if Hermione would still fancy her if she did that, or if that would be the nail in the coffin that finally drove her away?

Regardless, she was overdue for a cut and blow dry. For as long as she could remember she’d always had it styled in perfect ringlets with a few soft spirals falling around her face. All the girls at school had envied her hair. But it was a lot of hard work and upkeep, it never dried the same way twice and a whole bottle of Sleekeazy did nothing for her even during the mildest weather. 

The style was out of date. She needed a new look. Something fresh and flattering. Maybe she should go a bit lighter? Because her natural colour was doing nothing to hide all the lines in her face. 

Whatever. She’d think on it more when she wasn’t dead on her feet. She sighed and her shoulders drooped. 

She was older now than she’d ever expected to be and it showed. 

Fifty-seven. 

And then fifty-fucking-eight come October. 

How the hell did that happen?

If someone had asked Bellatrix Black what she thought her life would’ve been like after forty, she wouldn’t have hesitated in telling them that she expected to either be dead or serving a life sentence in Azkaban. If that same someone had told her that, in actual fact, she’d be an acquitted war veteran who was on better terms with her estranged sister and living with a woman more than half her age then Bellatrix would’ve probably laughed in their face - or hexed them, depending on her mood. 

Never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine she’d make it this far, considering the world she’d been born into and the life she used to lead, but the fact that she had was astounding. There had been some close calls over the years, she had the scars to prove it.

Her own father hadn’t even made it this far. So she supposed after all she’d been through she should just be thankful to still have air in her lungs. Yet she couldn’t fathom how she’d gone from a bright, beautiful young girl who’d had her whole life ahead of her to this empty shell of a woman who now felt lost inside herself. 

Sighing, she glanced at herself in the mirror again and wondered why the fuck she’d even gotten out of bed. Her expression was almost cadaver like, as if she’d left her spirit resting under the duvet with Hermione through in the bedroom. Her eyelids drooped, drunk with fatigue, and she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her palms. 

She was too tired for her own pity party and just wanted to sleep. 

Quietly, she left the bathroom and slipped back into bed. Despite the early hour, the bedroom was still dark. The curtains were a heavy velvet that hung in generous folds around the sash windows and were lined with thick cotton of the deepest plum. When they were closed the room was instantly cast into blackness, even on the brightest of days. 

Hermione instantly rolled towards her. “S’time?” she mumbled sleepily. “Work already?”

“It’s still early. Go back to sleep, darling.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Had to pee,” she lied. 

Hermione burrowed her face into Bellatrix’s chest and breathed, “Ok.”

Bellatrix stiffened when Hermione draped her arm over her waist then relaxed once more when she felt Hermione go limp. She cradled Hermione to her chest, her honey brown hair was inches from her nose and Bellatrix could smell her shampoo. The sweet, delicious smell of banana assaulted her senses and she inhaled deeply. She found relief in Hermione’s warm weight against her side and the fruity smell of her hair, and suddenly felt too good for words as her eyes began to drift closed. 

Bananas are yellow, she thought dumbly. She liked bananas. And she liked yellow. It was the colour of happiness. The colour of the sun. Hufflepuff. Galleons. Narcissa’s hair. 

Maybe that’s why her baby sister still looked young and vibrant at fifty-three. Warm tones were supposed to be good for knocking a few years off she’d heard.

Then as her mind finally, mercilessly, began to ebb, she suddenly had an epiphany and mumbled aloud, “Blonde. I should go blonde.”

And when her mind went into freefall, swirling with the beautiful chaos of a new dream, she missed the way Hermione’s breath seemed to catch.

* * *

Tuesday evening, July 14th 2009  
(49 days until September 1st)

The glasses did more than frame her eyes.

They added something to her face, highlighted her high cheekbones, enhanced the intelligence that already shone behind her dark, charcoal eyes. 

God, she was so beautiful.

And sexy. 

Even when she was in a bad mood.

Bellatrix had been in a huff of epic proportions since Hermione had told her how adorable she looked wearing her new glasses and had barely spoken two words to her since they’d returned from the opticians. Hermione had been overdue for an appointment and had taken it upon herself in a spur of the moment decision to book Bellatrix one as well. It had become blatantly obvious over the previous weeks that Bellatrix was in dire need of an eye test, and even thought the dark witch hadn’t been happy about the appointment with the ‘sodding Muggle eye Healer’, she’d eventually huffed her way towards complacency when Hermione had pointed out that the alternative would be St. Mungo’s where there would be an abundance of people who’d recognise her. 

But even now as Bellatrix lay across the couch with a book in her lap and a face like thunder, Hermione was dying just to jump her bones.

Hermione had actually been surprised when Bellatrix had slid the glasses on when they’d settled in the living room after dinner, albeit a little sulkily. Hermione had intended to spend an hour or so reading the most updated version of _Hogwarts: A History_ before bed, but she couldn’t stop stealing glances at Bellatrix, amused by the way the dark witch kept touching her glasses and pushing them up her nose. 

“Give it a rest, would you!” Bellatrix growled suddenly, without taking her eyes off her book. 

__

Hermione schooled her features into what she hoped was a picture of innocence, and said, “Give what a rest?” 

__

“Bloody staring at me.” She scowled at Hermione over the rim of her glasses. 

__

Hermione’s eyes dropped back down to the text on her knee but she was smiling. She knew Bellatrix was feeling self-conscious about the glasses. She had no reason to be of course, but there was just no telling her. For someone as extraordinary as Bellatrix Black, the glasses just seemed to add to her ethereal beauty. The thick black frames gave her a different kind of edge, they were chic and trendy which made her look younger, and they were slightly too big for her face, which was adorable. 

__

Bellatrix probably thought they were a harbinger of old age, but she needn’t have worried. The glasses made Hermione want to do all sorts of kinky things to her, the dark frames against her pale complexion and sharp jaw paired with her tumble of sable curls was just too much for Hermione to handle really. 

__

She couldn’t help but steal another glance at Bellatrix, sprawled across the couch with a cushion jammed behind her head and a well thumbed copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ balanced against her bent knees. Hermione bit her lip to suppress her groan, suddenly entertaining a dirty fantasy with Bellatrix as a sexy bespectacled librarian who had to discipline her for returning her books late, or a Hogwart’s professor who wanted to talk privately in her classroom. 

__

She wondered briefly if she still had her old school tie and if the dark witch would be up for a bit of role play. Then images started flashing through Hermione’s mind unbidden: Bellatrix’s face buried between her thighs, licking her to climax after climax. Bellatrix behind her, hand fisted in her hair, fingers biting into her hip as she fucked her hard with their favourite toy. 

__

All the while wearing her glasses. 

__

“Shit,” Hermione cursed under her breath when she felt heat pool between her legs at the thought. She had been quite happy to wait until Bellatrix was ready to share more than kisses again, but Hermione could tell that the appearance of her glasses was going to be problematic. 

__

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Bellatrix snapped, except Hermione could hear the slight waver in her tone. 

__

“Sorry, love,” Hermione laughed softly. “You just look so—“

__

“Old?” Bellatrix spat, and thrust her book aside in a little fit of rage. “Stupid?” 

__

Hermione rolled her eyes, immune to Bellatrix’s bursts of temper after so many years, and said, “I was going to say fit.” 

__

Face set in mutinous lines, Bellatrix sat up and pushed the glasses up onto her head, and rubbed angrily at her eyes. “Whatever. They’re stupid and I hate them. I’m not wearing them anymore if all you’re going to do is gawk at me like I’m some sort of freak!”

__

“Now you’re acting like a child,” Hermione sighed. 

__

Bellatrix pouted petulantly, “Fine. I’m a child. Half child, half ancient ruin.”

__

“Don’t be daft.” Hermione stood up from the armchair she’d been curled up in and crossed to sit next to Bellatrix on the couch. “Why’ve you got your kickers in a twist over a pair of specks? Anyway, they’re just for reading, aren’t they? Not like Andy, she needs hers all the time.”

__

“Andy wears those silly contactless things,” Bellatrix mumbled. 

__

Hermione ducked her head to hide her smile because Bellatrix would sulk all the more if she knew she was being laughed at. 

__

One thing she had learned about Bellatrix over the years was that her arrogance camouflaged her insecurities. And the deepest of those insecurities came from the overly critical aunt who’d physically and mentally abused her as a child. Bellatrix and her sisters had grown up with little to no self-esteem, Walburga Black had made sure of that. She’d been a bully who’d stripped them all of their self worth, but as the oldest, Bellatrix had bore the brunt of her aunts ire. She’d convinced Bellatrix from a very young age that she was not worthy, not deserving, and Bellatrix had carried those insecurities with her into adulthood. 

__

Bellatrix had admitted to her once after one too many glasses of wine that her aunts treatment of her had been one of the reasons she’d joined the Death Eater’s. 

__

Because Walburga Black had convinced her she was nothing. 

__

But Tom Riddle had groomed her from an early age and made her feel beautiful and important and valued. 

__

Tom Riddle had made her feel like she was worth her weight in Galleons. 

__

And then Tom Riddle had used her skills and intellect for his own self gain, manipulated her into doing his bidding because he’d convinced her it was for the greater good, and then he’d chipped away at her just like Walburga Black had done, until the walls he’d helped her build around herself crumbled to dust at her feet. 

__

Hermione knew Bellatrix’s appearance was important to her, especially after all those years of being told that she was hideous and undeserving. She also suspected that Bellatrix had been struggling recently with her age, and the fact that she now had glasses was probably the worst thing in the world to her right now and she probably felt just as hideous as she’d always been told she was.

__

“I like them, you know,” Hermione told her, plucking the glasses out of Bellatrix’s nest of curls and sliding them back onto her face. 

__

Bellatrix didn’t look so sure and grimaced. 

__

“I really do,” Hermione assured her. “They make you look sexy.”

__

“They make me feel old,” Bellatrix admitted softly. 

__

“Well, they shouldn’t.” Hermione leaned in and pressed her lips softly against Bellatrix’s. “There’s nothing sexier than a mature woman, let me tell you.”

__

Bellatrix shook her head, incredulous. “You’re just saying that.”

__

“I’m really not.” Hermione stroked her knuckles down Bellatrix’s cheek. “I haven’t felt this turned on in a while. Not since you had me riding your thigh like a Blackpool donkey a few weeks ago, anyway.”

__

“Oh?” That seemed to pique Bellatrix’s interest and she gave Hermione a sly look. “Anyone would think you’re trying to seduce me, Miss Granger.”

__

“Is it working?” Hermione practically purred and drew her closer to kiss her again. 

__

“A little,” Bellatrix murmured, and Hermione was thrilled when Bellatrix leaned in to meet her halfway. 

__

Bellatrix cupped Hermione’s jaw with gentle fingers and they shared a few soft, lingering kisses until Bellatrix pushed forwards and deepened the kiss. It quickly turned desperate, urgent, needy. One of them moaned, or maybe it was both of them.

__

“Thank you,” Bellatrix said in a ragged whisper once they pulled away. 

__

Hermione’s voice was husky when she asked, “For what?” even though she knew exactly what Bellatrix was thanking her for. 

__

Bellatrix hesitated. 

__

Sometimes the dark witch just needed some reassurance, and even though her fears may not seem rational to others, to Bellatrix they were the most real thing in the world. And as silly as some of those fears may be, Hermione would never use them against her, and she would never make Bellatrix feel bad for having them in the first place. 

__

“For being you,” Bellatrix said finally, but she looked like she wanted to say so much more. “I love you so much sometimes, Hermione Granger.”

__

Hermione grinned and slid her fingers into Bellatrix’s hair. “Only sometimes?”

__

“All the time. Eternally, dove.”

__

They shared another long kiss, then Hermione whimpered when Bellatrix pulled away and stood up. Their kisses had been so sweet and the loss of contact was almost too much to bear. Bellatrix was looking down at her with an intense, lost expression. Her lips moved, as if she was about to speak, but no sound came out, instead, she reached down and tangled their fingers together. 

__

Tentatively, Hermione said, “Bella?” 

__

“Come to bed,” Bellatrix said suddenly, and quickly extinguished the lamps with barely a flick of her wand. 

__

Hermione was on her feet in an instant. 

__

They clutched at each other that night; fumbling, gasping, trembling, whimpering each other’s names, mouths and hands everywhere. 

__

It wasn’t fucking. 

__

It was making love.

__

It was Bellatrix’s way of saying thank you when she couldn’t find the words to say them aloud.

__

Thank you for reassuring me, thank you for being here, thank you for being patient, thank you, thank you, thank you. 

__

Hermione understood and answered each silent admittance of gratitude with soft kisses and tender touches. She murmured assurances against heated skin, whispered words of love that would intensify the feeling of safety she’d hopefully enveloped Bellatrix in. 

__

It was the lightest Hermione had felt in weeks.

__


	5. All I Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 for you all. The end is near! Our leading ladies finally have that talk after a bit of drama and confusion. 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

When there’s fear people act out in different ways — Robert Hood

* * *

Saturday morning, August 1st 2009  
(31 days until September 1st)

The weekend started the way most weekends usually did - with a lie in. 

Hermione woke first around nine, feeling refreshed and well rested after what had been a busy work week, but she stayed in bed and watched Bellatrix sleep. She’d always marvelled at how soft Bellatrix’s features were in sleep without her usual resting bitch face. Her brow was relaxed and her lashes gently curled against her cheekbones. Hermione had the sudden urge to reach out and brush away one of the curls that had fallen in front of her face, but she held back in case she woke her. Bellatrix had been a bit of a dragon in the mornings recently and Hermione knew that she still wasn’t sleeping very well, so she’d let her rest.

After Bellatrix finally roused a little after ten, they shared several long minutes of warm, languid good morning kisses, then Hermione ventured downstairs to make a start on some brunch and Bellatrix excused herself to the bathroom - to weigh herself Hermione knew, like she did every Saturday, but she acted oblivious as usual. 

By the time Bellatrix had dressed and strutted into the kitchen wearing the biggest shit-eating grin Hermione had seen in a while (obviously very pleased with herself for reaching whatever weight loss target she’d set that week), they sat down at the kitchen table with mugs of strong tea, and dug into the stack of French toast Hermione had quickly rustled up. 

As usual she’d made too much, forgetting that Bellatrix had been cutting back on certain foods and eating better, so there was leftovers for their little owl when he swooped through the open kitchen window with the post. The tawny, who Teddy had affectionately named Bart after his favourite Simpson’s character, dropped the Daily Prophet and a stack of letters in front of Bellatrix and perched on the back of an empty chair at the table, waiting patiently for a treat. 

Hermione stroked the downy feathers on Bart’s ruffled head and fed him a few pieces of French toast while Bellatrix flipped open the newspaper. 

When Bart had eaten his fill, he nipped Hermione’s fingers affectionately in thanks then fluttered back out the kitchen window to roost in the old tree at the bottom of the garden until nightfall. Hermione opened the mail (a bank statement from Gringotts, a brochure from Quality Quidditch Supplies, and a note from Flourish and Blotts telling her that the book she’d ordered had been delivered to the shop and was ready for collection) and took a long sip of tea, glancing at Bellatrix over the rim of her mug. 

The dark witch was wearing her glasses. It was a sight Hermione had quickly became accustomed to over the weeks and Bellatrix didn’t seem at all fazed by them now. It pleased her greatly to know that Bellatrix wasn’t getting herself worked up over something so silly anymore, but no matter how many times Hermione had seen Bellatrix wear them, the sight of her sexy bespectacled witch still made heat and want pool in her belly. 

Hermione stared at Bellatrix now, tracing her middle finger around the rim of her mug, biting her lip provocatively in the hope that she’d catch Bellatrix’s eye so she could ask her if she wanted to go back to bed for an hour or two. But Bellatrix was oblivious, she had a curl wrapped around her index finger, twirling it incessantly as she read. Then just as Hermione was about to clear her throat in a bid to get the dark witch’s attention, her gaze was suddenly drawn to the front page of the Prophet and she made a soft sound. 

Bellatrix’s eyes flickered up momentarily before dropping back to the article she was reading, and she absently hummed, “Hmm?”

“Sorry, just...August already? It won’t be long now until Teddy starts school.”

The words had barely left her mouth before the dark witch thrust the newspaper across the table so ferociously that it was a wonder she didn’t suffer paper cuts. 

“Oi! What the bloody hell’s wrong with you?” Hermione startled. 

“Nothing!” Bellatrix spat acidly, tossing her glasses carelessly on top of the crumpled newspaper. She scraped her chair away from the table, all the while giving Hermione a look that could’ve stripped metal.

Hermione wasn’t in the least bit fazed by Bellatrix’s tone and she scoffed. Clearly it wasn’t nothing and it was obvious by Bellatrix’s sour expression that she was upset about something. Bellatrix stomped angrily across the kitchen heading directly for the Floo. Removing herself from tense situations was the dark witch’s way of putting a wall between them when she was feeling distressed and needed some time to collect herself. So Hermione didn’t know what possessed her to reach out and snatch Bellatrix by the arm before she could make her escape. 

“Wait just a minute—” Hermione started. 

But Bellatrix wrenched away so viciously that she nearly tore Hermione’s arm out its socket. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Hermione felt her face flush with anger and alarm, and she snapped, “Why are you being such an arse?”

“Why are you being such an arse!” Bellatrix mimicked in an awful babyish tone, face twisting into an ugly grimace. 

Full of fury, Hermione sprang to her feet, knocking the table with her hip in the process, and sloshed tea everywhere. “You’re a little old to be throwing temper tantrums, Bella,” she flared angrily. 

Bellatrix’s dark eyes lit with rage, much like a streak of lightning on a pitch black night, and Hermione knew instantly she’d crossed some invisible line with that one and offended Bellatrix’s sensibilities.

“Fuck you,” Bellatrix seethed between clenched teeth, hands curling into shaking fists. “Fuck you, Hermione!”

Hermione shivered a little, because she’d never much bothered during silly spats when Bellatrix’s anger materialised like ice. She could handle the frost. The icy glares. The cold words. 

But she would admit to being wary on the odd occasion over the years when Bellatrix’s temper sizzled like Fiendfyre, burning hot and feral, because once the flames started to smoulder, there was very little time to duck and cover. There was an unmistakable fire in her eyes now, and Hermione knew that it was pointless to try and reach her when she was like this. 

So Hermione gingerly sat back down, as if she were standing face to face with a wild animal and was trying not to make any sudden movements that would antagonise it. 

Bellatrix just shook her head, anger and, was that hurt, glistening in her eyes? Then she Disapparated away without another word. Hermione sighed heavily and dropped her forehead down on the table with a dull thud, arms folded tightly around herself. 

“For fuck sake, Bella,” she groaned.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, August 1st 2009

It was nearing dinner time now, Bellatrix had been gone for hours, and Hermione’s hands hadn’t stopped trembling since the dark witch had left. Hermione didn’t know where Bellatrix had went or when she’d come back. She’d Floo’d around to ask if anyone knew where she was. Harry hadn’t seen her, there was no answer at Malfoy Manor, and there was no point in contacting Andromeda because the last place Bellatrix would go to in a rage would be Andromeda’s house. Bellatrix had always been careful about keeping her angry side concealed from Teddy. So Hermione was anxious, and for once in her life she tried just to let her mind go blank but she couldn’t stop her brain from replaying the events of that morning over and over until the memory became hazy and distorted. 

She stood at the kitchen window now, elbows resting on the counter as she waited on the kettle boiling, and looked out over the garden. It was still bright outside, sunset still wasn’t for another hour or so and the warm August sunshine ignited the fiery reds and oranges in the beds around the perimeter of the lawn. The garden was always beautiful this time of year, but Hermione couldn’t find the enthusiasm to appreciate its splendour. Not when the steady thump of a migraine pulled behind her eyes. 

She wanted to be angry at Bellatrix but she was finding it hard to hold onto her fury, because even though things had improved lately, Hermione knew that Bellatrix’s earlier reaction wasn’t just another one of her usual hissy fits. No, she’d seen Bellatrix exhibit that kind of behaviour before, the way her body ramped up for a fight when she was feeling distressed because she didn’t know any other way to channel her emotions. 

Hermione didn’t have the faintest idea what had triggered Bellatrix that morning, it could’ve been anything really. She’d even quickly skimmed through the Prophet to see if there were any articles that might’ve upset her. But there was always so much going on in that head of hers and sometimes she was prone to random outbursts of rage. It wasn’t unusual for Bellatrix to get very high or very low on occasion, and the fragility of Bellatrix’s mental health was something that Hermione and Andromeda had discussed on a number of occasions over the years, always speaking in hushed, concerned tones. 

But even though Bellatrix had been entirely in the wrong, Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty, because something was still clearly hurting her, the same something that had been been haunting her for months, and Hermione didn’t know how to fix it or how to make her feel better. 

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she startled when a slender hand reached around her to take the whistling kettle off the heat. Jolting around, she expected Bellatrix, but her face crumpled when she realised it was in fact Narcissa who was standing behind her. She hadn’t even heard the rush of the Floo or the kettle coming to the boil. 

“At least look happy to see me, dear,” the blonde quipped, looking slightly harassed but as elegant as ever as she brushed soot from the fireplace off her green flowery summer dress. 

“Oh, Narcissa, I’m sorry. I was in a world of my own,” Hermione smiled weakly in apology. “It’s been one of those days.”

“Oh?” Narcissa rose a perfect blonde eyebrow and gave Hermione an arch smile. “Anything to do with my darling sister by any chance?” 

Hermione could tell by the look on Narcissa’s face that the older witch already knew that it had everything to do with her sister and Hermione didn’t need to wonder anymore where Bellatrix had gone when she’d stormed out earlier.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, partly in relief that Bellatrix wasn’t getting herself into trouble somewhere, and partly in trepidation because she didn’t know what mischief Bellatrix had gotten up to at Malfoy Manor. “Is - is she alright? I tried to Floo but —“

“My hands were full, darling, I’m sorry I missed your call. But don’t worry, she’s fine now. I only wish I could say the same for my rose bushes,” Narcissa told her and Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. “She went on a rampage through the gardens. I’ll be surprised if the peacocks don’t end up with some sort of post traumatic stress disorder.”

Hermione gave Narcissa an agonised look, “Oh, Narcissa —“

Narcissa dismissed her with a lazy wave of her hand and said, “It’s fine, darling, you needn’t worry. I always hated those rose bushes anyway. I’ve been looking for an excuse to rid the garden of them for years without upsetting Lucius, they were his mother’s favourite. But what a bloody mess she’s made.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said again, and started rubbing her hands together anxiously. “She threw a wobbly, I - I don’t even know what set her off, I just —“

“Hermione,” Narcissa said gently, reaching out to still her hands. “Darling, sit down. We’ll have some tea and a chat, hm?”

Hermione protested a little but allowed Narcissa to guide her into a chair at the kitchen table anyway. She watched Narcissa summon mugs and move around her kitchen with familiar ease as she prepared tea. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to.” She laughed humourlessly. “I’m — I’m a bloody terrible host, aren’t I?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes as she placed two steaming mugs of tea on the table and sat down. “I don’t think today has been particularly pleasant for either of us, Hermione,” Narcissa told her kindly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Hermione lied. She clutched her mug, the burning against her palms a welcome distraction. 

Narcissa’s ice blue eyes narrowed but all she said was, “Drink up, the tea will help.”

She looked exhausted Hermione observed and nodded without comment, taking a long sip of tea. She noted with amusement that Narcissa had picked a calming chamomile and orange blend and, God, it was just what she needed to come down from the stressful day she’d had. 

“Feel better?” Narcissa asked after a few minutes of companionable silence. 

“Much,” Hermione replied with a small smile. And she did, a little. 

“Good. Tell me what happened this morning,” Narcissa said. “I couldn’t get a lick of sense out of Bella.”

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Everything was...fine. We had a lie in, we had some brunch, then Bella read the paper and took a funny turn. I have no idea...it just came out of nowhere.” She raked a shaky hand through her hair. Although deep down Hermione knew that Bellatrix’s tantrums rarely stemmed from nothing. “I mean, I think...I may have made things worse. I said something about her being too old for tantrums and — oh, Narcissa, you should’ve seen her face.”

“Ah,” Narcissa nodded thoughtfully and rolled her eyes. “I doubt she appreciated that one, she’s been funny about her age recently, hasn’t she?”

Hermione bit her lip and started wringing her hands again, “You’ve noticed too then?”

Narcissa’s eyebrows drew together in a worried frown. “Oh, darling, we’ve all noticed. I know you’ve spoken with Andromeda. I’ve spoken with her too. I —“ She suddenly looked a little flustered and leaned forwards in her chair. “Hermione, she was talking about dying her hair blonde. Has she ever mentioned that to you?”

“A few times.” Hermione’s heart sank, she closed her eyes and blew out a breath. The first time Bellatrix had mentioned it, Hermione had been half asleep and was almost positive she’d misheard her in her semi-conscious state, but Bellatrix had brought it up in conversation a few more times since then. Hermione had made a point of ignoring her or casually changing the subject and Bellatrix hadn’t mentioned it again for a few weeks. 

“It was such an odd thing for her to say,” Narcissa went on, fingering her own flaxen locks pensively. “She went blonde once before, you know? Just before she married Rodolphus.” 

Hermione bristled in annoyance at the mention of Bellatrix’s deceased husbands name. Rodolphus Lestrange had rarely been brought up in conversation over the last decade, but whenever he was, the mere mention of his name made Hermione’s hackles rise. She knew it was silly to be jealous of a dead man, but she couldn’t help it. 

“I think she did it in the hopes that she’d give our aunt a stroke before the big day, but...” Narcissa trailed off and shook her head. “She suited it back then, she really did. Mother made her strip the colour out before the wedding of course. But I must say, I was rather taken aback when she asked me a few weeks ago if she should go lighter.”

Knowing that Bellatrix had actually been blonde in her youth probably would’ve made her mouth water had she still not been so on edge from all the drama that morning. But she pushed the image to the back of her mind for later. 

“She’s been acting weird for a few months now. For a while I thought..” Hermione hesitated momentarily so she could choose her words carefully. She wasn’t sure how the blonde would react to what she was about to say next. “I thought Bella might...stray.”

“An affair?” Narcissa asked tightly. Anger iced in her blue eyes and she pursed her lips. Hermione shivered. At least Andromeda had just laughed in her face when she’d mentioned it to her. Hermione dropped her gaze to the table and nodded meekly. 

“No,” Narcissa said, shaking her head fiercely. “She’d never. How could you even think—”

“Can you blame me, Narcissa? We were barely speaking a few months ago. She was distant and moody, we were, um...rarely intimate.” Hermione bit her lip. “Then she started eating better and running with Andy, and I thought...I thought maybe she was trying to impress someone else...”

Hermione tentatively met Narcissa’s gaze once more. The blonde wore a pinched expression but she prompted, “And now?”

“Now, I don’t think she’s having an affair. I haven’t for a while actually. Things have been better recently, until this morning at least, but I’ve started to think...do you think she’s maybe having some sort of breakdown?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Hermione!” Something Hermione had said must’ve tickled Narcissa as funny because her displeased frown melted away and a giggle suddenly rolled out of her like waves washing across a pebbled beach. Hermione was stricken, Narcissa was usually such a serious person, even when she was happy her expression usually remained immobile, unlike her sister’s who completely lit up when they found something amusing. 

“I know, I know, that sounds ridiculous doesn’t it, but—”

“No, silly girl,” Narcissa laughed, looking at Hermione with a look of both humour and exasperation. “I’m not...I’m laughing because, oh Merlin, I thought Bella already had one of those when she started having intimate relations with a teenager.” 

“Narcissa!” Hermione’s jaw dropped, then she felt laughter bubble in her chest and she rubbed her hand across her face. 

“I’m just teasing, darling,” Narcissa smiled. “But did you ever consider that Bellatrix may be in the throes of menopause? It usually hits Pureblood woman a little later than Muggles but you know Mother Nature, it is entirely possible.”

She had considered it, and she’d brought it up in conversation with Andromeda a couple of times but the elder witch wasn’t convinced Bellatrix was going through the change of life quite yet, particularly as she hadn’t had any significant warnings signs. But she’d assured Hermione that, when the time came, there were potions for witches to help with the symptoms of menopause that were far more effective than modern Muggle medications. 

“If that is the case,” Narcissa went on, eyes crinkling as she sipped her tea. “Then I have the utmost sympathy for you, dear. She was a demon during puberty and everyone knows that menopause is just puberty’s evil older sister.”

“Oh, God,” Hermione murmured. She’d heard horror stories from her mother, who’d started the menopause in her early fifties. Jennifer Granger’s advice to her had been to treat Bellatrix like a normal, natural woman when the change inevitably hit her, and not a crazy one. But Hermione’s problem now was that Bellatrix had always been a little crazy and it was hard to tell if normal crazy had ended and menopausal crazy had started. 

Still, menopause wouldn’t explain Bellatrix’s desire to dye her hair. Or any of the other strange new habits she’d picked up.

“I suppose that’s the price you’ll have to pay for deciding to share your life with a woman nearly three decades your senior,” Narcissa mused, but not unkindly. 

“I don’t care!” Hermione couldn’t help but bristle defensively at that and her voice cracked when she felt the sudden prick of tears. “Bella’s everything to me. She’s not perfect but she’s all I want. I love her.”

“I know you do, darling. And Bella loves you too. I meant no offence.” Narcissa’s eyes softened and she squeezed Hermione’s hands reassuringly. She delicately cleared her throat and said, “All joking aside, whether she’s menopausal or in the middle of some sort of breakdown, I have no doubt that you’ll both get through it. You’ve overcame much worse together.”

“Thanks, Narcissa. It’s just been...it’s been weird.” Hermione took a deep breath and swiped at her cheeks, embarrassed at her display of emotion and her inability to really articulate how the past few months had felt.

Narcissa nodded sympathetically and pulled Hermione in for a brief affectionate hug when they both stood. “I best get back,” she said apologetically. “I don’t want to leave Bella alone with Lucius for too long. No doubt she’ll have the poor man demented.”

Hermione hugged her back, albeit a little awkwardly. It was still strange for her to see this side of Narcissa Malfoy, but she’d grown to appreciate it over the years nevertheless.

“Thank you for coming to check on me, and for looking after Bella. I really am sorry she’s made such a nuisance of herself.”

“Don’t be silly, that’s what families do,” Narcissa told her softly, and Hermione felt her heart swell in her chest. “And don’t apologise on Bella’s behalf, I’m well accustomed to her mood swings. If anything, she’s given me something to do. The garden was in dire need of a good tidy up.”

The blonde witch crossed to the fireplace and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle. “I don’t know when Bella will decide to come back. When I left her she was nursing a cup of coffee and feeling sorry for herself,” she said. “I know her temper can get the better of her sometimes, and I know things are a little...odd right now, but please try to kiss and make up. Everything will work out.”

“Don’t worry, Cissy. I’m sure it’ll be fine. She’s rarely in a strop for long.”

“I know, darling. She’s protecting herself from something though. Anger is the only way she knows how sometimes.”

And with a small parting smile, Narcissa disappeared in a whoosh of green, leaving Hermione alone once more. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione gathered the mugs from the table and crossed to the sink, and as she glanced out the kitchen window, she spotted Lady Grey frolicking amongst the dahlias at the bottom of the garden with her boyfriend Cheddar, the fat ginger tabby from next door. And all of a sudden, Hermione thought how nice it would be to go outside. 

She dumped the mugs in the sink, grabbed her wand, and left the house with no conscious destination in mind. She needed to get out of the house. She needed to move. She couldn’t bear to stay cooped up at home any longer waiting for Bellatrix when she didn’t knew when the dark witch would decide to come back. So she set out on a brisk walk around the leafy streets of Hampstead. 

Hermione had always loved living here. There was an abundance of both old and modern houses in the winding streets, everything from handsome Georgian mansions and pretty period cottages, to large Victorian houses like the one she shared with Bellatrix. The area had a quiet village-like charm and was one of the finest places in the capital to settle down in. And despite being largely populated with Muggles, though Hermione did know of a few Wizarding families who also stayed nearby, it was little wonder Bellatrix had chosen to come back here after her acquittal. Hampstead was like catnip for a well-heeled Pureblood like Bellatrix. 

But despite the beauty of her surroundings, and all of Narcissa’s reassurances that things would work out, the tenseness that had settled in her muscles remained, making her feel like she was under a nasty Full Body-Bind Curse. She couldn’t quite get past the unexpectedness of Bellatrix’s rage. Of course, she’d by lying if she were to say that Bellatrix had never done anything unexpected over the years. After all, she was known for making impulsive decisions and her mood could turn at the drop of a hat. 

But this morning, on a scale of one to ten on the unexpectedness scale, Bellatrix had been a solid twelve. 

She wished she hadn’t grabbed at Bellatrix when she’d tried to leave that morning. If she’d only left her to brood in peace for an hour or so then perhaps Hermione might’ve got some semblance of sense out of her afterwards. It was the first big fight they’d had in years, yet it had barely been a fight at all. They’d traded some heated words, slung a few profanities back and forth, but it didn’t stop the crushing feeling in her chest. 

The whole thing just made her feel sick. 

Then she wondered briefly if Bellatrix would even come back at all and sleep elsewhere. She never had. No matter how angry or annoyed they were with each other, they always slept together, even if they didn’t always go to bed at the same time. 

_“I need some air.”_

That’s what Bellatrix usually said when they fought. Even then, it was never for this long, and she never spent an entire night away. But Bellatrix had never said anything before she’d Apparated and even though Narcissa had said that she’d calmed down a lot, Hermione couldn’t help but resent Bellatrix in that moment because her heart suddenly felt so heavy. 

She was at a complete loss and didn’t know what else to do except to keep walking, her legs carrying her as far away as possible from the house that represented the disaster that was supposed to be her quiet, lazy Saturday with Bellatrix. 

* * *

Saturday evening, August 1st 2009

Dusk was falling by the time she got home, Apparating into the back garden with a loud crack that split the silence of the night. She’d walked for hours, lost in her own thoughts, until the heat of the day had ebbed into a comforting warmth and her legs had began to ache. The first thing she noticed after recovering from the spinning sensation of Apparation was the light shining through the kitchen window and her chest flooded with relief as she hurried across the lawn to the back door. 

Bellatrix was home. 

Hermione just hoped that she was in a better mood because she didn’t know if she had the energy to argue again. 

As she stepped into the kitchen her eyes immediately zeroed in on the vase of truly stunning flowers in the middle of the kitchen table and she gasped. The bouquet was made up of Hermione’s favourites - white oriental lilies and yellow roses. 

Next to the vase was a package. Her brow creased and she reached for it. When she peeled away the thick brown paper, Hermione could only stare for a moment as _The Limitations of Contemporary Transfiguration_ glared up at her in elegant gold letters. It was her new book, the one she was supposed to pick up at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione brushed her hand hungrily over the cover. And when she flipped it open, she felt her eyes go wide. It was signed on the inside cover. 

In Bellatrix’s immaculate handwriting it read: Sorry for being such a prick. B. 

Underneath was a crudely drawn cartoon cactus with two dots for eyes and a sad frown. 

Hermione shook her head, but she was smiling. She couldn’t even find it within herself to be a little miffed that Bellatrix had vandalised her new book because the contrite gesture was exactly the sort of thing that she would expect of the dark witch.

The tension she’d felt in her shoulders left her then and she was left feeling exhausted. In that moment she just wanted to hold Bellatrix and hear her voice. So she quickly left the kitchen, leaving the book on the table, and went in search of her witch

The rest of the downstairs was shrouded in darkness so she trudged up to the top landing and followed the sound of running water into their bedroom. Lady Grey was curled up in a pile of Bellatrix’s discarded clothes in the middle of the floor. The cat looked up briefly to blink at her in greeting before closing her eyes again. Hermione crossed to the en suite and leaned against the open door frame to watch Bellatrix in the shower.

Bellatrix’s back was to her, she was leaning against the wall at the back of the shower, bracing her forearms against the tiles with her head hanging between her shoulders. Her back heaved with heavy, laboured breaths as the hot water streamed over her body. Hermione’s body thrummed with concern and arousal.

“Bella,” Hermione said softly, and gently knocked her knuckles against the door. Bellatrix slowly lifted her head but she didn’t turn around to look at Hermione, nor did she speak to her. “Fancy some company in there?” Hermione asked, even as she began undressing.

Bellatrix’s nod was so subtle that Hermione almost missed it, but the moment she kicked her clothes aside and stepped into the shower stall, Bellatrix turned around and tugged her closer. They clung to each other for several long moments. Hermione curled her arms around Bellatrix and rubbed her palms soothingly up and down her back. Their eyes were shut as they gently swayed together under the hot spray and Hermione was pleased when Bellatrix’s breath finally evened out. 

“I’m sorry,” Bellatrix finally mumbled, pressing her face into the crook of Hermione’s neck 

Hermione sighed wearily, “I’m sorry too.”

Bellatrix made a noise that sounded like a half-laugh, half-sob, and leaned back to look Hermione in the eye. “Don’t apologise, you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve behaved terribly today.” Hermione reached up to smooth some of Bellatrix’s dark curls off of her face. Something about the pained look in her eyes made Hermione’s heart soften. She nuzzled Bellatrix’s face affectionately and asked, “Are you alright now?”

Bellatrix’s brow creased, “I think so.”

Hermione stroked her hand down Bellatrix’s cheek, skimming the underside of her jaw, towards her lips. Bellatrix kissed her fingers and Hermione looked at her with pleading eyes and asked, “Care to talk about it?” 

_____Bellatrix hesitated and closed her eyes briefly, and Hermione was momentarily mesmerised by the way the water clung to her long lashes._ _ _ _ _

_____“Can we go to bed and then we can talk?” Bellatrix asked quietly._ _ _ _ _

_____Hermione was surprised that Bellatrix so readily agreed after weeks of avoiding the conversation, and she nodded quickly before Bellatrix could change her mind. “Of course.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bellatrix shut off the water and they stepped out of the shower together. Then after quickly towelling theirselves dry, Hermione shooed Lady Grey out into the hall, and they slipped naked into bed. Bellatrix reached for her immediately, quickly wrapping her arms around Hermione, and clung to her desperately. She pulled her so close that Hermione could feel Bellatrix’s racing heart through her breast._ _ _ _ _

_____So Hermione hugged her back as tightly as she dared while still giving her space to breathe. She tangled her fingers in Bellatrix’s still damp hair and pressed soft, deliberate kisses against her neck and collarbone in an effort to soothe the dark witch. And her ministrations seemed to work because after a few minutes, Hermione felt Bellatrix begin to relax in her embrace._ _ _ _ _

_____“He’s leaving,” Bellatrix said suddenly, finding her voice as her death grip on Hermione loosened._ _ _ _ _

_____Hermione’s brow creased in confusion because she didn’t have the first bloody clue what Bellatrix was talking about. Reaching down between them, she found one of Bellatrix’s hands and clasped it tightly. “Who’s leaving, love?” she whispered._ _ _ _ _

_____“Teddy.”_ _ _ _ _

____Oh. _Oh!_ ____

_____ _

_____ _

_______Hermione’s stomach plummeted as the echo of her words from that morning instantly sprang to mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _

_“...August already? It won’t be long now until Teddy starts school...”_

_________“Is that why you’ve been so upset today?” Hermione asked gently._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix nodded against her pillow and she stared right through Hermione with a mournful expression. An air of melancholy saturated the space between them and Hermione responded to it immediately, gathering Bellatrix against her chest again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Oh, love. We’re all going to miss him. Andy’s place will be so quiet without him, that’s for sure. But he’ll love school. He’s a little social butterfly and he’ll fit right in.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix tucked her head under Hermione’s chin and pressed a soft kiss to the hollow of her throat. “I know,” she mumbled miserably._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Truthfully, Bellatrix’s anxiety around Teddy going to school didn’t surprise Hermione in the slightest. She just wished she’d noticed it sooner._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix was very protective over Teddy and had always cherished their nephew like she’d been the one to carry him and bring him into the world herself. Not that Hermione or Narcissa or Harry loved Teddy any less, but Bellatrix and Teddy had a special sort of bond that he didn’t share with any of his other relatives._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione remembered one night many years ago when Bellatrix had confided the agony she still sometimes felt over her secret abortion. She hadn’t explained it in detail, and Hermione would never dare ask her to divulge more than she was willing to share, but she could see from the way Bellatrix had refused to meet her eyes when she’d spoke of it that it was something she’d buried very deeply. Hermione’s heart had shattered to see Bellatrix still so very vulnerable to memories that were four decades old, but it perhaps explained her overprotectiveness and overindulgence of Teddy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“It’s pointless to miss him already when he hasn’t even left yet though,” Hermione pointed out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“That doesn’t mean I won’t,” Bellatrix said, sounding almost petulant._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I know, love,” Hermione sighed, then she added brightly, “He’ll be coming home for Christmas though. And I’m sure he’ll write to us.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“He’ll be busy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“We’ll get to hear about all his adventures then.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“You have a bloody answer for everything,” Bellatrix huffed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione laughed softly and they fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments. She started rubbing soft circles into the dip at the small of Bellatrix’s back and the dark witch melted against her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“It’s not just that,” Bellatrix said eventually, far more quietly. “I didn’t realise how old I was. One moment Teddy was just a tiny little baby and now he’s nearly taller than me and about to go to Hogwarts. It’s...it’s a sick joke.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Despite Bellatrix’s distress, Hermione couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. A lot of things suddenly made sense to her and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t think Bellatrix would appreciate either. But it was very clear to her now that nothing sinister was looming on the horizon and Teddy’s imminent departure had obviously kickstarted a bit of a midlife crisis. She suspected there was some empty nest syndrome in there as well._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” Bellatrix went on in a small voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Oh, you daft cow,” Hermione smiled, voice soft and low and she squeezed Bellatrix’s bicep. “I’m not going anywhere, Bella.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’m not young enough for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione’s smile faltered, the words hitting her like a bludger straight to her heart._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Is that what you think? Really?” Hermione shook her head, then she had a thought and prodded, “So...the jogging?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix mumbled, “I was getting fat.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione scoffed. “Is that why you wouldn’t have sex with me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I didn’t want you to touch all my...jiggly bits.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“All your — Bloody hell, Bella! I thought...I thought you were seeing someone else. I can’t believe you—”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix jerked away suddenly and Hermione felt fear and shame bloom in her chest. The dark witch laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “How could you even think - as if anyone would ever want ...” Bellatrix rolled onto her back and dragged her hands down her face in dismay. “Fuck, Hermione.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’m sorry,” Hermione offered sincerely, and reached out to touch Bellatrix’s hip apologetically. “It’s just that you’ve been off for months and I couldn’t help but think the worst.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione trailed off, struck with an intense sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t she already had this conversation with Narcissa today? She pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Please don’t be angry with me,” she whispered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’m not angry,” Bellatrix sighed, lowering her hands. “I suppose I can see where you’d get the idea from though. You should’ve said something.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I didn’t know how to broach the subject without upsetting you or...”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix shot her a sharp look. “I won’t throw a shit fit whenever you want to have a serious discussion, Hermione. I am capable of having a civil conversation.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“You’d think after a decade we’d know how to communicate with one another,” Hermione smiled crookedly, astounded at the ridiculousness of it all. “Why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Oh, you know me,” Bellatrix said dryly. “I don’t talk about my feelings, that’s why most people think I don’t have any.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione half rolled on top of her and pinched her hip reproachfully. “I’m not most people, I’m your...” she hesitated. “I’m your girlfriend. You know you can tell me anything, don’t you? You can talk and I’ll always listen. I love you so much.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I know, darling,” Bellatrix sighed, sliding her palms around Hermione’s hips. “I love you too. I just don’t love myself very much right now. I’ve convinced myself I’m quite hideous.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione pressed a kiss to Bellatrix’s shoulder, “Hard work, yes. Moody, yes. But definitely not hideous.” Then Hermione kissed her throat. “Do you honestly think I would love you any less because you have a bit of a belly?” Another kiss to her jaw, her chin, her nose. “Or love you any less because you’ve got a few more wrinkles or a bit more silver in your hair, or because of your bad knee and your terrible eyesight?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix looked like she was going to protest but Hermione pressed on before she could say anything. “Do you really believe that any of those things would honestly change how I feel about you? Do you, Bella? Because if so, then that means I haven’t loved you properly all these years.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix’s breath left her in a whoosh. “Oh, my love,” she murmured, and her voice was so thick with emotion that it made Hermione physically ache. “I’ve been a prize idiot, haven’t I?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“We both have,” Hermione told her, and leaned down to finally bring their mouths together in a tender kiss. “But that’s alright because you’re beautiful and I love you, every single part of you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix’s only answer was a soft, hesitant smile, one that made the crows feet at the corners of her eyes crinkle and Hermione’s belly to do a summersault. But she still didn’t look too sure and Hermione knew she’d have to do a bit more convincing. For someone who appeared so confident, Bellatrix had a self-destructive amount of self doubt and a bad habit of letting small insecurities fester until they consumed her from the inside out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Obviously I haven’t made myself clear,” Hermione said silkily, pushing the duvet to the bottom of the bed and kneeling between Bellatrix’s spread legs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix’s charcoal brown eyes darkened almost imperceptibly and she looked at Hermione with an intense, hungry expression. Her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip and Hermione felt the temperature in the room rise a few notches. Bellatrix reached for Hermione immediately and palmed her breasts, lightly brushing her thumbs over her nipples. Hermione exhaled a breathy groan and shivered, briefly closing her eyes to enjoy her witch’s touch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“See?” she hummed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“See what?” Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow as she caressed Hermione’s body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’m not as fit as I used to be either,” Hermione told her. “Look at these stretch marks.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix shook her head vehemently in protest. “Rubbish! You’re not yet thirty. You’re as beautiful as the day we met, dove.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Then why can’t you accept that I still think the same about you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’m vain.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Well, at least you’re honest,” Hermione giggled, and leaned down to give Bellatrix’s jaw a playful bite._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________She twisted her fingers through Bellatrix’s mane of dark curls and felt the arousal that had been gently simmering on the back burner since their shower together flare back to life when Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered. Hermione knew that one of the things the dark witch loved most was having her hair played with. She curled a few grey strands around her fingers and tugged playfully._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Those few strands of grey were a reminder of all the wonderful years they’d spent together. A decade had passed but when she looked at Bellatrix she still saw the same woman she had fallen in love with all those years ago. Hermione loved Bellatrix’s hair - and everything else about her - because it reminded her that time was so precious._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Bellatrix groaned suddenly and the sound sent heat pooling between Hermione’s legs. She tightened her hold around Bellatrix’s hair and tugged her head back roughly so she could lick her way up the taut column of her throat and suck roughly at the sensitive skin under her jaw._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Please don’t dye your hair blonde,” Hermione said, and pressed more kisses against Bellatrix’s neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I’ll dye it any colour you want me to if you keep doing that,” Bellatrix whispered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Keep it as it is.” Hermione tugged Bellatrix’s hair again to turn the objection she felt coming into another throaty moan. Then she began trailing wet, open mouthed kisses over Bellatrix’s chest until Hermione heard her suck in a sharp gasp when she kissed and licked her pink nipples, coaxing them into tight peaks. Hermione dragged her lips lower still and kissed her navel before resting her cheek on the soft curve of her belly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione sighed, and danced her fingers over the hollow of her hip. “I know you’ve been on a health kick but please don’t loose too much weight. I love your belly.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“You also love trashy romance novels and Marmite,” Bellatrix huffed as she reached down to stroke Hermione’s hair out of her eyes. “You have questionable taste, darling.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________Hermione snorted softly, reaching up to tangle their fingers together, and used their clasped hands to push Bellatrix’s legs apart. She got comfortable on her stomach between Bellatrix’s thighs and marvelled at the sight of Bellatrix swollen and pink and so, so wet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Nothing tastes as good as you do,” Hermione rasped as she lowered her head to Bellatrix’s glistening centre._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Breathe Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, chapter 6.
> 
> I won’t lie, this last chapter was a challenge and I’m still not 100% happy with it, but I need to get September out of my system now. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who’s left feedback and enjoyed my first multi-chapter fic. 
> 
> I own nothing. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Those who love deeply never grow old, they may die of old age, but they die young — Ben Franklin

* * *

Tuesday morning, September 1st 2009

“You’ll write to me, won’t you, Aunty Bella?” Teddy asked fretfully. “You and Aunt ‘Mione?”

Bellatrix looped her arm though Teddy’s as they wove their way through the throng of commuters at Kings Cross Station. They ignored the Muggles who stared curiously at the little blue haired boy and the woman who was dressed completely in black despite the unusually warm September heat as they made their way towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

“Of course, darling,” Bellatrix said.

Teddy bit his lip hesitantly, “Every day?”

“If you want us to. I’ll even send you Sugar Quills every Friday if you’d like? My daddy did that for me when I started school.” 

Teddy grinned broadly at that, “Thanks, Aunty Bella. I’d like that.”

Bellatrix knew he would. No one liked Sugar Quills as much as Teddy did. Except for her, of course. 

“You ready?” Bellatrix asked. 

“Yes.” Teddy said, but he didn’t sound so sure. “But...”

“Yes, love?” Bellatrix’s eyebrows drew together in concern. It wasn’t like Teddy to be unsure about, well, anything really, but she could tell by the look on his face that something was bothering him.

“Can I...” He gulped, throwing a worried glance at the wall that led to the platform. “Can I ask you something? Before we get everyone else?”

Bellatrix gave Teddy her brightest smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was coming though. 

“Of course.” Bellatrix guided him to the side and out of the flow of people. “What’s wrong?”

Teddy started tugging anxiously at his sleeves. “I was just wondering...do you think....I mean, what house do you think I’ll be sorted into?”

Bellatrix sighed. 

They’d had a brief discussion about this on Saturday when Teddy had pulled her aside after a heated debate about what house he’d be in had flared up during a family dinner Andromeda had organised for him. Of course, all parties involved had pretended to not care at all which house he would be sorted into when Teddy was present, but there was little doubt in Bellatrix’s mind that when she’d whisked Teddy into the living room for a quiet chat that all the adults had proceeded to try and trump each other with arguments why Teddy should be in one house or another. 

For weeks Teddy had been giddy with excitement as September had neared, but after the discussion at the dinner table, he’d been fretful and anxious, so much so that he’d barely touched the heaped bowl of ice cream that Bellatrix had given him. 

She realised after a few seconds that Teddy was gazing at her expectantly, and gently she asked, “What house do you want to be sorted into?”

“I...I don’t know,” Teddy admitted in a hushed whisper that she could barely hear over the hum of the train station. He chewed at his thumb nail and for a split second Bellatrix couldn’t help but think how much Teddy reminded her of herself in that moment. A strange thought indeed considering that Teddy wasn’t hers. Hell, he wasn’t even her nephew. He was her great nephew. But there was clearly a lot of Black in him which pleased her a great deal. 

“We discusses this at the weekend,” Bellatrix gently reminded him. “I thought you didn’t mind which—“

“I know. It’s just that...I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” Teddy went on, eyes downcast, and Bellatrix’s stomach dropped. 

“Poppet, you could never disappoint any of us, you know that, don’t you?”

He gave her an agonised sort of look that made her heart hurt. “Granny and Grandpa Alec are secretly hoping I’ll be sorted into Slytherin...”

And me, Bellatrix thought, but she kept that one to herself, because she knew better. 

“And Harry and Aunt ‘Mione were Gryffindor’s, weren’t they? Even my dad was...” He trailed off sadly and hung his head. “I know they’d be super excited if I was a Gryffindor like they were. But...I don’t know. What if I don’t like the house I’m sorted into?”

Bellatrix cradled his face gently between her hands and tipped his head up to look at her. “Teddy Lupin, let me tell you something I told your Aunt ‘Mione a long time ago.”

Teddy stared at her apprehensively, his crumpled face a mask of unease and curiosity. 

“The sorting hat puts us where we want to go,” she told him. “Did you know that?” 

Teddy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I...it does?”

“Of course it does!” Bellatrix laughed a little. “The rotten old thing might make a few suggestions, but in the end, the choice is all yours. We don’t give a toss where you end up, just as long as you’re happy when you get there.”

Teddy nodded, looking determined and a bit more relaxed. 

“But don’t do what me and your gran did when we started school and pick a house solely to please others,” Bellatrix went on. “The houses are there to encourage healthy competition and group loyalty that’s all. I know I would’ve been happy in any house.”

Teddy’s eyes widened almost comically at that and his mouth fell open. 

Bellatrix’s mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “Why do you seem so surprised by that?” 

“It’s just hard to imagine you as anything other than a Slytherin, that’s all,” Teddy grinned, no doubt envisioning her in some ridiculous red and gold ensemble.

“C’mere, let me tell you a little secret I’ve never told anyone before.” Bellatrix bent her head close to Teddy’s ear and slid her arm around his shoulders. “If I’d been a bit braver I would’ve told the hat to place me Hufflepuff.”

“R-really?” Teddy gasped. “A Black? In Hufflepuff?”

“Of course. The Hufflepuff common room is right next to the kitchen, you know. Imagine all the midnight snacking I could’ve done.” Then, in a more serious tone, she told him, “The most important person you have to please is yourself, Teddy. Work hard, have a good time, and please, please, try to stay out of bloody trouble, would you? That’s all we want for you, darling.”

Teddy stared at her with wide, soulful eyes that shimmered briefly between blue and brown for a few moments before all the tension left his shoulders and he visibly relaxed. “Thanks, Aunty Bella,” he breathed, and he flashed a shadow of a smile, “I’ll try my very best.”

“Good boy.” She patted his cheeks affectionately and dropped her hands. “Now, hurry along. It’s nearly time for you to leave and what’s the bets your gran’s about to have a conniption fit, hm?”

They both sniggered as they hurried towards the barrier. Teddy eyed the wall with slight trepidation as they approached and Bellatrix slipped her arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a reassuring side hug. 

Bellatrix asked, “Ready?” 

Teddy gulped and nodded, and side by side Bellatrix ushered him into a brisk half run towards the barrier. She felt Teddy wince only a little as they passed through the wall and emerged a moment later onto platform nine and three-quarters. 

She heard Teddy’s audible gasp over the rabble.

“Is that it?” Teddy gawped as his eyes roved over the huge, scarlet steam engine before them. “It’s even cooler than you said it was!”

“Marvellous, isn’t she?” Bellatrix agreed. “Come along, let’s find the others.” 

She looped their arms again and steered Teddy through the crowd. So enamoured was Teddy with the shining, red train and all the activity that bustled around them that he was oblivious to the sudden attention they’d attracted. 

Ordinarily she wouldn’t venture anywhere within the magical community without Andromeda or Hermione as a buffer, especially such densely populated areas such as Diagon or Kings Cross at the start of term, but today was about Teddy. So she quashed her rising anxiety and schooled her features into an expression of haughty indifference. The crowds parted like the Red Sea as they hurried through the mist in search of the group of people she knew would be waiting for them somewhere further down the platform. 

“There they are!” Teddy eventually cried, spotting his grandfather’s salt and pepper hair over the rolling smoke, and he broke away from Bellatrix to race towards the huddle of people that were anxiously waiting for them towards the back of the train. 

Hermione looked fretful as she glanced at her wristwatch for what was no doubt the hundredth time that morning and Andromeda stood with her arms folded, a pinched look on her face that instantly fell away when she noticed Teddy hurtling towards them.

“Where’ve you been?” Andromeda demanded, looking both frazzled and relieved in equal measures. “It’s nearly eleven!”

“Did you get lost, Bella?” Alec joked in his soft Scottish lilt. He grinned broadly at her as he passed Teddy’s trunk and owl to one of the baggage handlers on the nearest carriage. 

Bellatrix just rolled her eyes and whatever snarky retort she had for her brother-in-law died on her lips when Hermione tactfully reached for her.

“Everything alright?” she asked, tugging Bellatrix closer to press a chaste kiss against her lips. 

Murmurs and gasps reached her ears over the rabble but she couldn’t care less as she slipped her arms around Hermione’s waist and quietly said, “Just a little bout of nerves, darling. All sorted now though.”

“Ok,” Hermione breathed. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine.”

Hermione gave her a meaningful look and murmured, “And you? Are you alright?”

“I’ll just have to be, won’t I?” she said, trying hard not to sound too glum. Her dark eyes flickered sadly to Teddy just as Harry was pressing a handful of Galleons into his palm for the sweet trolley and his grandfather was reminding him not to overindulge on sweets lest he wanted to miss out on the welcome feast. 

As if that would ever happen, Bellatrix scoffed inwardly. Teddy was a bottomless pit when it came to food! 

And then Andromeda’s gaze met hers over Teddy’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

Bellatrix gave her a meaningful look and mouthed, “Thank you.”

She didn’t know if she would ever be able to find words adequate enough to thank her sister for allowing her to spend those last few minutes alone with Teddy before he started his Hogwarts journey. 

And then all too soon the whistle blew signalling the trains imminent departure and the last of the stragglers hurried aboard the Hogwarts Express. Doors started slamming shut up and down the train and Hermione pulled Teddy into a quick embrace before he barrelled into Bellatrix, nearly knocking her off her feet. Bellatrix clutched at him fiercely and pressed a tender kiss into his wispy blue hair. Any other eleven year old boy probably would’ve been embarrassed at the overly emotional display, but not Teddy. He hugged her back just as hard, nearly crushing the air from her very lungs, and Bellatrix fought hard to hold back a sob. 

Keep it together, old girl. 

She couldn’t cry. Not in front of Teddy. Not in front of her family. And certainly not in front of all these people who gawked and whispered when they should’ve been preoccupied waving off their brats. She might’ve gone a bit soft in recent years but she still had a reputation to maintain after all. 

“I’m so very proud of you, my boy,” she murmured. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Aunty Bella,” he mumbled into her shoulder, then quieter so only she could hear, he said, “You’ll be alright.”

His words struck a chord in her heart and she was suddenly taken back to a night not so long ago when Andromeda had to practically scrape her off the floor after their first jog together as Teddy doubled over in hysterics at the kitchen table. She wondered just how perceptive Teddy had been over the last few months when she’d been in the throes of her little breakdown, but before she could ask, he was gone. 

Bellatrix watched him go with his red rucksack slung over one shoulder - apparently the only acceptable way to carry it - his skinny frame pitching sideways from the weight of the brand new books Hermione had given him to keep him occupied on the long journey to Hogwarts. And then as he hopped onto the train, Bellatrix felt a flutter of helpless anxiety in her chest and had to hold the urge to follow him in check. 

His happy, exuberant face appeared at the window in the closest carriage as the train began to move. Parents swarmed forwards for their final goodbyes but they gave Bellatrix and her little group a wide berth. Teddy waved at them excitedly and Bellatrix kept her eyes firmly fixed on him for as long as possible until the train disappeared around the corner in a puff of white smoke.

* * *

Tuesday afternoon, September 1st 2009 

_Will he settle in alright? Does he miss us already? Get a grip, he’s just left. Is he ok though? Why are you so worked up? It’s normal to worry about your kids. But Teddy isn’t yours. Why are you overreacting?_

Bellatrix needed space.

Somewhere quiet where she could be alone with the endless questions that started to loop around her mind the instant the Hogwarts Express disappeared around the corner with Teddy. 

Somewhere far from the drone of Potter’s voice. Away from all the idiots who clearly had nothing better to do today than stand on a platform and gawk at her. 

Someplace where her heart didn’t feel so heavy. 

A place she could just...breathe. 

So the last place she expected to find herself upon returning home from Kings Cross was Teddy’s bedroom.

Hermione tactfully made herself scarce and disappeared into her home office. It pained Bellatrix somewhat that Hermione felt the need to lock herself away in her own home just to give her the space she so desperately craved, but at the same time she was grateful to be left alone with her thoughts for a while.

She lingered in the doorway to Teddy’s bedroom now. It had been a guest suite once upon a time, but when Teddy had insisted on staying on a more regular basis and he’d gotten too old to sleep with them, they’d cleared it out and turned it into a bedroom fit for a little boy. 

Clutter had always driven Bellatrix to distraction so it was a wonder to her how she’d never noticed how the general mess of Teddy’s room stood in stark contrast to the rest of the house. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled his little boy smell - a blend of stinky socks and the atrocious aftershave Harry had bought him for Christmas after Teddy had been caught pinching his grandfathers cologne one too many times and had insisted he was old enough to wear it. She longed for him more than ever in that moment and sat down on his bed, hugging the raggedy stuffed Welsh Green that he’d had since forever and refused to throw out. 

With a weary sigh she glanced around his room and took in the odd mix of dog-eared Quidditch and Muggle football posters plastered over the walls, the old leather Quaffle that was in desperate need of replacing now that the stitching was fraying and it had started to smell pretty badly, and the stack of old REM and Depeche Mode records that he’d poached from his grandmother’s atrocious Muggle music collection.

She briefly wondered what had happened to all of his racing cars, and the small training broom he’d begged for when he was adamant he was going to be a famous Chaser when he grew up, and that horrid Lego stuff he used to leave in unspeakable places around the house. It alarmed her somewhat to suddenly realise that wrestling and mud and toys left like booby traps under the couch cushions had somehow turned into hair gel and eye rolling and rock music. 

_Teddy wasn’t a little boy anymore._

When the fuck did that happen? 

The realisation hit her like the proverbial tonne of bricks, her mind a jumbled mess of fear, relief, pride, and lingering anger. And suddenly she felt the most overwhelming urge to cry but she was too stunned to do so. The truth of that realisation was almost too much to bear as she clutched Teddy’s dragon to her chest in a white knuckled grip. 

Teddy was eleven. 

She was fifty-seven. 

Diets, hair dye, jogging...bloody jogging! Although she’d come to enjoy the days she spent running with Andromeda, but still, what the hell had she been thinking? 

Did she really think that trying to make herself look younger would somehow turn back the hands of time and Teddy would be a little boy again? Touching her windows with his sticky hands and needing his face wiped after too much chocolate cake? 

Did she really think that after everything they’d been through together in the last decade that Hermione would’ve given up on her so easily? 

And did she really think that, even though she wished more than anything for Teddy to stay a little boy forever, if she’d tried to make herself look younger, that she would be able to stop Teddy from growing up the same way she’d tried to stop herself from ageing?

And then her shoulders started to shake, laughing softly at her own idiotic behaviour, and she murmured, “Bellatrix Black, you fucking daft, old cow.”

* * *

Wednesday evening, September 2nd 2009

“Thought you could use a drink, love—“

Hermione’s voice startled Bellatrix out of her reverie and her head snapped up to see her witch scowling at her. 

The light spilling out into the garden from the kitchen window surrounded Hermione like a halo and made her look like an angry angel as she eyed the cigarette clenched between Bellatrix’s fingers with an unamused, almost stern glare. But Bellatrix was passed the point of caring and didn’t even attempt to hide it. 

“Thank you, darling,” she murmured glumly as Hermione handed her a glass of rosé. “But I don’t much feel like talking if that’s why you’re here.”

Hermione cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Is that a polite way of telling me to bugger off?”

Bellatrix just shrugged and looked away. 

They’d had this conversation before; whenever Bellatrix insisted on solitude. But Hermione had became a master of out-waiting Bellatrix over the years, always infinitely patient, and when Hermione sat down in the chair opposite her at the garden table with a challenging look etched on her face, Bellatrix knew she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“You know I hate you smoking,” Hermione grimaced. 

Bellatrix muttered, “I’ve been doing it for months, don’t pretend you didn’t know about it.”

“Yes, but I thought you’d stopped again,” the younger witch scowled, making a show of waving her hand around to waft the smoke out of her face. 

Hermione was right, but the stress of today had triggered the urge. Until today not one single cigarette had met her lips since she’d chain smoked nearly a whole pack at Malfoy Manor the day she’d demolished her sisters roses. 

“Careful now, wouldn’t want you to sprain your wrist,” Bellatrix snarked sarcastically, and viciously stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray in the middle of the table. Hermione cut her a venomous look that made Bellatrix’s shoulders droop. “Sorry,” she mumbled pathetically. 

Hermione quickly waved away her apology though, knowing fine well why the older witch was so on edge. She gave Bellatrix a tender smile and said, “He’ll be alright, love.”

Bellatrix smiled back but she couldn’t quite muster the same enthusiasm. She knew he’d be alright. Of course she did. But she’d feel better hearing it from Teddy. It was nearly eight in the evening and they still hadn’t heard from him. She’d been beside herself when no letter had come with the morning post and there was still no sign of Teddy’s owl. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d forgotton about them. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll hear from him soon.” Bellatrix knew that Hermione was trying her best to sound positive but she could hear an undertone of unease in her lovers voice. Then Hermione’s lips tugged into a playful smile and, clearly changing tact, she asked, “So, are you done wallowing?”

“I’m not wallowing,” Bellatrix pouted, but even to her own ears the statement sounded false. Hermione was right of course, but it didn’t mean that she wanted to hear it.

Hermione half laughed. “Of course you are. You always come out here for a good old wallow.”

Bellatrix’s eyes widened. “I do no such thing!”

“Remember when my dad conned you into a check-up at the practice and gave you a filling?” Bellatrix groaned, remembering that day well. “You were out here for hours feeling sorry for yourself afterwards.”

“I still haven’t forgiven him for that,” Bellatrix grumbled. “I just wanted to see all the stabby things he tortured the Muggles with and he shivved me with a huge fucking needle instead.”

“Or the time we were babysitting Scorpius when he was a baby and he was sick in your mouth,” Hermione went on with a broad smile. 

“Don’t!” Bellatrix covered her mouth with a disgusted grimace and shot Hermione her filthiest look. “I can still taste it!”

“Well, you’re the only witch I know who would even think to throw a toddler in the air after he’d just ate dinner,” Hermione taunted airily. “Oh, dear. You appear to have turned a funny shade of grey, darling. Are you well?”

“Oh, be quiet!” Bellatrix hissed, though there was no real bite to her tone. She gulped down a few large mouthfuls of wine to rid the bad taste that had suddenly settled on her tongue. 

“Or remember that time—“

“Yes, alright. You’ve made your point,” Bellatrix scowled. “Am I really so predictable?”

“Yes,” Hermione smiled fondly, and reached across the table to lace their fingers together.

Bellatrix squeezed her hand. “You know, if this is your idea of a pep talk, I think you seriously need to re-evaluate your approach.” 

Hermione covered up her smirk with a sip of wine. “I learned years ago that sugarcoating things doesn’t work with you, Bella. Now, are you about done with your wallowing?”

“I wasn’t...” Bellatrix trailed off because she knew Hermione was just trying to wind her up. “Fine. Alright, I’m done.” 

“Good. I’m starving and I think I’ve left you alone to brood for long enough. I feel like I’m about to fade away. Fancy a takeaway?”

Bellatrix shrugged weakly and gazed out over the darkened garden. The very last thing on her mind right now was food. “I’m not all that hungry, darling. But order something nice for yourself if —Bloody fucking hell!”

They both startled and Bellatrix’s chair nearly tipped backwards with her in it as the large eagle owl streaked out of the darkness in a rush of mottled brown wings and landed heavily in the middle of the little iron table between them. 

“Finally, the big news!” Hermione grinned, her face alight with an elated smile even though her shirt was now drenched in wine. 

The regal looking bird looked almost contrite as she dropped the envelope she’d been carrying in her large beak into Bellatrix’s hand. Then, with a soft apologetic hoot, she flapped away into the night without waiting for a treat, a large wing slapping Bellatrix in the face in the process. 

“Bloody bird!” Bellatrix sputtered around a mouthful of feathers. 

“Shall we read it together?” Hermione asked, dragging her chair across the grass to sit next to Bellatrix. 

“Together,” Bellatrix agreed, suddenly giddy with excitement as she tore open the envelope. Then, heads bowed together, they began to read. 

_Aunties_ it began in Teddy’s cramped scrawl. 

_Before I say anything else I’ll put you both out of your misery and tell you that I’m now the proud new owner of a black and yellow tie._

“Hufflepuff?” Bellatrix murmured.

Truthfully she’d thought...well, she’d thought maybe Gryffindor. But Hufflepuff was just fine, of course. More than fine.

_I know it’ll probably be quite late by the time Missy reaches you, but yesterday was so busy that I didn’t have much time to write any letters so I’m writing this now while I eat my lunch. I don’t know where the Owlery is but a prefect said she’d take a group of us there to send our letters before we start our afternoon classes. I hope you’re not too worried waiting on my letter. Especially you, Aunty Bella, I know you’ll be anxious to hear from me._

_I made my very first Hogwarts friend on the train. A boy named Linus Rosier. I told him great-granny Black was a Rosier before she got married and we were wondering if we were maybe related? I said I’d ask when I wrote home. He told me his dad’s name was Charles Rosier. Do you know them?_

_Anyway, he was worried about which house he’d be sorted into, almost all of his family were Slytherin, you see. But I told him that my Aunty Bella told me that the choice was ours and that we shouldn’t worry about what anyone else thinks and guess what? He’s a Hufflepuff just like me now and his mum and dad are thrilled!_

“See, making friends already,” Hermione beamed. “Do you know the boys father?”

“Distant cousin,” Bellatrix murmured absently, and they continued reading.

_When I was on the train I kept thinking about which house I wanted to be in. Then when we got to the Great Hall and it was my turn for the Sorting Hat I felt so awkward because everyone was staring at me, but when Professor McGonagall put the hat on my head it was so big that it covered my eyes and I instantly felt better because I couldn’t see anyone. Then it spoke to me! I felt like it’s voice was inside my head and it said that I was worrying too much about trying to please everybody. And it told me I was very clever and talented, but I knew that anyway because Gran tells me that all the time!_

Guilt gnawed at Bellatrix when she read what the Sorting Hat had said. She knew how worried Teddy had been before he’d boarded the train and she’d put it down to first year jitters, but she didn’t fully realise just how much pressure he’d felt to make them all happy. He’d been so pale and anxious standing on that platform yesterday, fretting over the fact that he was going to disappoint someone no matter which house he was sorted into. 

_It said that I’d be best suited in Gryffindor, which made me feel so happy because my dad was in that house. But in the end I said I wanted to be a Hufflepuff just like my mum. Then we had the welcome feast and there was so much food! It tasted so much better than Gran’s dinners, but please don’t tell her I said that._

_My first class today was Charms. We practiced the Leviosa charm and guess what? I made my feather float first time! How cool is that? Professor Flitwick was very impressed and gave be five house points. He told me that Aunt ‘Mione was the only one in her class who’d managed to levitate her feather first time too._

_I can’t wait to tell everyone who my aunties are and that Harry Potter is my godfather, but a lot of people already knew that anyway and they were asking me all sorts of questions about him. I feel like a bit of a celebrity and I image Harry felt a bit like that when he started school as well._

_I’m having the best time already and I’ve met so many nice and interesting people, and all my new Hufflepuff friends think it’s so cool that I can change my hair and my face whenever I want._

_I need to go to the Owelery now because lunch is nearly over and my next lesson will be starting soon, but please write back when you have time._

_Also, I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise to send me Sugar Quills every Friday, Aunty Bella. And I know Aunt ‘Mione will probably stare daggers at you when she reads this, but don’t worry, I’ll remember to brush my teeth!_

_I love and miss you both heaps._

_Teddy._

Bellatrix lowered the letter and sure enough her witch had her pinned with a stern look. Daughter of dentists and all that. But Bellatrix didn’t care. She was just so happy that Teddy was alright and enjoying himself, and already doing well in his lessons, like she always knew he would anyway. He was clever, her Teddy was, and confident and hardworking and ambitious — come to think of it, he possessed all the very best qualities of each of the Hogwarts houses, and so much more besides! 

And he was a Hufflepuff. 

Bellatrix didn’t think she’d ever felt more proud. But for the briefest of moments, she envied Teddy. For accomplishing what she couldn’t all those years ago.

And then quite suddenly, the crippling anxiety that had made her feel like she’d been losing her mind for the last five months melted into nothingness. The only feeling she could realistically compare it to was that first deep lungful of air you draw in after being under water for too long. 

Finally, she could breathe again. 

“Sickle for your thoughts,” Hermione said softly, touching Bellatrix’s arm. 

Bellatrix’s eyes fluttered and she shook her head, realising she’d been quiet for a few minutes. “Hmm?”

“Oh, love, I hope you’re not too disappointed. I know you held a secret hope he’d be a Slytherin.”

“I’m not disappointed,” Hermione turned to her with a small smile. “He made the right choice and I’ve no doubt that he’ll bring glory to the house of Hufflepuff.”

“Good. Now, about that takeaway? I think you need something greasy and delicious to make you feel better.”

Bellatrix shot Hermione her most scandalised look. “Oh, darling no! I’m watching my figure! Chinese, Indian, or pizza?”

Laughing, they both stood up and Hermione pressed a gentle kiss against Bellatrix’s mouth. Softly, she mumbled against the dark witch’s lips, “You look so proud, love.”

“Always have been,” Bellatrix whispered, “And I always will be.”

Together they ventured back into the kitchen in search of a takeaway menu. It had been a tough couple of days, and an even tougher few months, but the first of September hadn’t been nearly as traumatic as Bellatrix had convinced herself it would be either. 

Teddy would be alright.

And so would she.


End file.
